The school year began with very little fanfare. Classes started, the teachers were all the same, and it seemed as though absolutely nothing had changed since the term before, like no time at all had passed.

Quidditch tryouts were upon them only a few short weeks into the term, and looking across at the sea of applicants, Winona didn't have to be a Seer to know who was going to get the two open Beater positions.

"Are you sure you don't want to try out with us?" Angelina asked again, her and Alicia gripping their old Comets tightly, trying to hide how nervous they were. "You could fly circles around her," she finished in a whisper, turning to look at Allison Leaker, a fourth year Gryffindor with stringy hair and twisted scowl.

Winona cast the older student a look of clear disdain, conceding that Angelina was right, she could have made her look like a toddler on a stick in comparison.

"Nah," she said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "I like Quidditch, but not enough to join the team."

Angelina looked disappointed, but she understood. "Think the twins'll make it?" she asked, swinging her arms around in sharp movements, stretching out her muscles.

"They're a shoo-in," she replied without a hint of doubt. Angelina didn't look surprised by her certainty. She cocked an eyebrow, and Winona briefly faltered. "Ah – so are you, Ange," she added, hoping she didn't sound as awkward as she felt. "You'll do great, I know it," she finished, holding up both hands in a less-than-convincing double thumbs up that made the taller girl roll her eyes.

"I can't believe two Chaser positions opened at the same time," Angelina said rather than bring attention to the stilted exchange, for which Winona was grateful. "What are the odds that all four positions will be filled by second years?"

"Slim to none," she answered dryly, although Angelina didn't seem to appreciate her wit. Winona only gave an impish grin in response, turning once again to survey the gathered Gryffindors.

"We reckon Crawford and Mills from fifth year would have a shot; maybe, if we weren't here," the twins had appeared, high-fiving obnoxiously at Fred's egotistical comment.

"Heard Nott and Perry from Slytherin saying they think Charlie's the only reason you'll get picked," Angelina told them, electing to ignore their theatrics.

The twins gasped indignantly, turning towards the school and glaring, as though they could see through the layers and layers of stone and earth into the Slytherin common room, where they were cooking the Slytherins alive with the power of their minds.

"Ignore them, you two," Winona said, reaching up to clap them both on the shoulder encouragingly, like sports coaches always did in the movies – though she supposed the reference was lost on the wizard-raised twins. "Go out there and beat some balls," she told them cheekily just as Charlie called tryouts to a start.

"We've been training our whole lives for this," George responded wickedly, and she snorted indelicately as they left, jogging towards the centre of the Pitch.

"You okay?" Winona asked Ange, who looked vaguely like she'd just swallowed a poorly brewed potion.

"Fine," she replied faintly, so Winona slapped her on the shoulder too, hoping it felt encouraging.

"You'll do great," she promised. Angelina nodded distractedly, her eyes on where Charlie was explaining something to the others. "Go on, before you miss out," she said, pushing her forwards.

"Right," the soon-to-be Chaser agreed, and Winona smiled as she watched her wander blindly towards the others. Once Angelina had joined the rest of the potentials, Winona left the pitch, meeting up with Hope who was waiting at the base of the stairs leading to the stands.

The Chasers were up first, and Winona cheered loudly for her friends. Both cut through the air like bullets, passing the Quaffle between them fluidly, showing off exactly how hard they'd been practising. Alicia only scored three out of five goals, but Angelina got all of them, and Winona whistled sharply in celebration – she'd by far done the best out of everyone who'd tried out.

Angelina and Alicia landed, heads bowed as they debriefed on their tryout, but Winona was distracted by Charlie calling the Beaters up next. Crossing her fingers, Winona's eyes were glued to the two redheaded twins who each held a thick, sturdy bat in their pale hands.

They moved even more fluidly than the girls had, but it wasn't from practise as much as it was from their magical twin-connection. They flew circles around everybody else, quite literally, barrelling across the space like a pair of Bludgers themselves.

Without a roaring crowd, she could hear the sound of their bats colliding with the Bludgers, and each time she reminded herself that it wasn't their heads, then stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled loud enough to make Hope cover her ears.

Finally, a good two hours later, tryouts were over with, and Winona was all but tripping down the stairs in her eagerness to reach her friends. "You all did brilliantly!" she assured them, coming to a stop before them and rocking back on her heels so she could look the twins – who had both grown about a foot over the summer – in the eyes.

"We figured," George told her, his eyes laughing. "If you whistled any louder, you might have made my ears bleed."

There was a flicker in her mind, and in her eyes, like the flash of a camera, only it brought with it an image that wouldn't quite focus.

"Really?" Ange's voice asked in her ear, but Winona was losing touch with reality far too quickly, like she were encased in quicksand made from the stuff of time itself, pulling her down into its grip. "Winnie, honestly!" she huffed, exasperated, but Winona didn't have time to ask what she was talking about before she was pulled under.

It was the usual – nonsensical flashes and noises she couldn't pinpoint – only this time, there was an odd burning on the side of her face, like somebody had chucked a ruthless curse her way. If she'd been able to feel her facial features beyond the pain, she might have grimaced.

She came out of it to see the field half empty, and instead of being out in the grass with the last few stragglers, she was sat on her knees under the stands, her sketchbook on her lap and her hands stained black and red.

The image on the paper before her was grotesque, and she gasped at the sight of it.

One of the twins lay on a threadbare couch, and whichever it was, he was clearly quite a lot older than they were now, the baby fat gone from his face, replaced by sharp angles and a weary sort of tiredness that hurt to look at; but – most disturbingly – he was missing an ear. The drawing was done in charcoal, except for the bright red ink of the blood dripping down over his neck like something from a terrible horror film.

Atrociously sick, Winona slammed her sketchbook shut and refocused on the present, the world around her slowly feeling less like a vision and more like her usual reality.

Fred and George were standing a few feet away, murmuring between one another softly, looking oddly torn between anxiety and elation. "What happened?" she asked them as she approached, her steps a little unsteady and her balance a little off, like she'd just spent an entire week on a cheap carnival ride. She shakily stuffed the offending sketch into her bag, making sure she had all her utensils together before clipping it shut and throwing it back over her shoulder.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" the twins exclaimed, turning to see her finally back with them.

"Was it bad?" she asked warily, not even sure she really wanted to know. She could barely imagine what her visions looked like to people around her, she could only hope they didn't try and have her committed to Saint Mungo's.

"Everyone thinks you're a nutter, and an exceptionally rude one at that," Fred told her calmly, a hint of mischief in his eyes that calmed her racing pulse, the glint reassuring and familiar. "But other than that, everything's fine. We convinced Ange and Alicia that we upset you by being wankers and that you'd gone off to sulk. They told us to 'fix it or else' and that they'd meet us all back in the common room."

Winona blinked in surprise. "And how'd I get over here?" she asked confusedly. She wasn't sure what exactly happened to her body during a vision, but she didn't imagine she was able to somehow able to get herself to safety – surely she didn't just go on autopilot, but then again, magic was unpredictable. Who knew what she was capable of?

"We just led you over here, kind of like a brainless horse or something," George shrugged, and she hummed in acknowledgement, trying not to picture that in her head. She was still feeling incredibly unwell, both from the episode itself and the content of her vision. What did it mean, and when was it going to happen? Perhaps most importantly: how could she stop it? "So, what'd you draw?" he continued eagerly, beginning to lead her away from the stands and across the Pitch towards the path the led back to the castle.

"Huh?" she asked sharply, refocusing on the twins, who were both staring at her expectantly. "What?"

"What did you draw?" Fred repeated slowly.

She hesitated, wondering whether she should be upfront or not, but ultimately decided to keep it to herself. She hated secrets between them more than anything, but she didn't want to scare either one of them unnecessarily. No, she'd go to Dumbledore first, that batty old wizard always knew what to do. Well, mostly.

"If I told you, I'd have to Obliviate you," she told them, aiming for playful, and it seemed to work, because they both snorted.

"Come on," George whined childishly.

"Is it the results of a Quidditch match?" Fred questioned eagerly. "We could make some serious gold if you started having visions of who wins the upcoming games...especially now that we're in them!"

She opened her mouth to tell them that, no, it wasn't the results of a match, but instead she got caught on the last thing he'd said and decided to run with it as a distraction – which she knew was stepping into something dangerously close to manipulation, but she reminded herself it was for the best.

"You got in?!" she asked excitedly, and she certainly didn't have to fake her enthusiasm.

"We got in!" the twins confirmed as one. She gave a sort of squeal, childlike fervour seeming to almost leak from her pores, and both George and Fred gave wide grins.

"Congrats, you guys!" she told them, grinning back so wide that her face began to hurt.

"Oh, like you didn't already know," Fred scoffed, and though she actually hadn't know for sure, she still winked playfully, making him laugh. "Celebratory piggyback ride?" he suggested, and she laughed as she handed off her bag to George, who took it without complaint, watching as Fred crouched down and Winona leapt onto his back with practised ease. "You should eat more bacon," he commented as they began to walk up towards the castle. "You're lighter than a Cornish Pixie."

"Oi," she barked, slapping him on the shoulder. "Never comment on a lady's weight."

"If I meet one, I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he quipped. She snorted with laughter as Fred sped up, the damp evening growing wetter as the clouds gave way to a light mist of rain.

She wasn't able to keep her thoughts off her foreboding vision for long, however, as the next night was her scheduled meeting with Dumbledore, and she knew she had to bring it up, no matter how terrified she was of the answers to her questions.

Dumbledore's office was the same as it always was, large and interesting, and even though she was usually quite averse to reading, the colourful array of books kind of made her want to crack some open, if only to glimpse the insides and whatever secrets they might hold.

"Tea, Miss Andrews?" the Headmaster's voice, deceivingly frail, sounded from the corner. She startled, not having realised he was there.

"Please," she said with a swallow, moving over and taking a seat in the chair that was still at least three sizes too big for her, watching as he flicked his wrist and the tea began to prepare itself.

"What do you have to show me today, my dear?" he asked pleasantly and without preamble, coming to a stop beside his beautiful phoenix familiar and gently stroking him on the top of his head. He preened under the attention, his beautiful crimson feathers glinting in the firelight.

Glaring at her hands as though it might stop them from shaking, Winona pulled out her sketchbook and flipped to the most recent page. She took a deep breath before showing him the haunting sketch of the lifeless looking Weasley twin, strikingly red blood pouring from his injury, stark against the black lines.

Dumbledore made a humming noise, grasping the teacup as it floated into his hand, taking a small sip as he stared down at it thoughtfully, expression giving nothing away. The other teacup hovered in the air before floating towards Winona, who hesitated only a moment before grabbing it gently and wrapping her hands around the heated porcelain, the warmth comforting in a familiar way. She took a deep sip – it was made to perfection, as always, and she wondered whether it was by magic, or by Dumbledore's will that it be done so.

"May I enquire as to which Weasley twin this might be?" the Headmaster finally spoke, sounding pleasantly curious, as though he were asking what she thought the weather might be like in the morning.

"Why do you assume I know?" she asked, feeling oddly defensive at the question.

"I was under the impression you could tell them apart," Dumbledore replied, the picture of innocence as he took a heavy seat in his comfortable chair, sapphire eyes twinkling. "Not even their own mother can do it with such ease."

"Fred reckons it's just part of being a Seer," she told him quietly, running a finger along the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup.

"Perhaps he's correct," Dumbledore mused absently, giving nothing away.

She took another sip. "It's George," she revealed, casting the horrible sketch another distrustful look. She hadn't known, not at first. She'd laid in bed the night before, curtains drawn around her as she'd stared down at the offending image, and she knew, just as she always did, which twin it was.

"And when will this happen?"

She shook her head helplessly. "I don't know," she murmured, then frowned as she reconsidered this. "Although, George does look a whole lot older than he does now," she added thoughtfully, leaning forwards and reaching out a finger to run it over her best friend's charcoal profile, his expression contorted in uneasy pain. "So it must be a far way in the future. I wonder how far ahead I can see," she mused aloud. Dumbledore tilted his head down to get a better look at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"A question better posed to Professor Trelawney, I assure you," he told her, pulling out his wand and waving it over the sketch, an exact copy appearing beside it. "Don't spend too long worrying about this, Miss Andrews," he added kindly, steepling his fingers, elbows propped on his magnificent desk. "It doesn't do to dwell on what cannot be changed."

"But what if it can?" She'd spoken without thought, but it was out there now, and she couldn't take back the question. She didn't even want to. "Be changed, I mean," she added in case there was any confusion. "The future isn't set in stone, right?"

Dumbledore tilted his head again, staring at her like he could read her every thought. She felt oddly naked, sitting before him. She didn't like it. "I suppose that depends on your personal beliefs," he finally said, the spark of intrigue in his eyes unmistakeable, like she'd given him something to consider. "I believe you, more than anybody here, is the most qualified to answer that question," he continued. "The future is your domain, after all."

Winona sipped at the last of her tea. "What about Professor Trelawney?" she reminded him, and there was an inexplicable twitch at his lips, like something about what she'd said amused him.

"I'll let you in on a secret, Miss Andrews," he said, leaning forwards conspiratorially. Curious and somewhat wary, Winona leaned in too, her brow furrowed as she waited. "With every passing day, you are proving to be a more powerful seer than Professor Trelawney could ever dream to be," he revealed, surprising her greatly.

"Seriously?" she asked without a semblance of tact. Dumbledore only smiled again, blue eyes twinkling like crystals in the firelight.

His lips twitched again, like he knew something she didn't, but he nodded once with absolute sincerity. "Seriously."

The common room had been busy that night, a few weeks into the term, but it had begun to empty earlier than usual, growing quieter with every passing tick of the clock, until finally there were only a few stragglers left, most of them older students, studying by the warmth of the fire.

The twins had detention (surprise, surprise), and the girls had all gone up to bed, knowing they had Potions first up in the morning, followed by Transfiguration – so they knew they needed all the rest they could get.

Winona seemed to be the only one not studying or sleeping, instead she sat curled in her usual spot near the window. Thick, woollen socks kept her feet warm, combating against the persistent chill of the breeze through the cracked window. She liked the cool, fresh air and the way it felt as it filled her lungs when she breathed. It cleared her head, which felt foggy at the best of times.

She was using simple pencils today, trying to get the profile of Professor McGonagall just right, and was barely paying any attention to the world around her, so lost in her work.

Until there was a squeak from in front of her, and she looked up in time to see a tiny little girl trip from the bottom step of the girls' dormitories. Blinking in surprise, she noted that the girl was carrying a blanket in her hands, her inky black hair tied up haphazardly in two small, uneven braids.

"Are you okay?" Winona asked before she could return to her sketching. She didn't have the heart to ignore the girl, especially with the way her eyes were watering as she stared back up at the stairs.

She turned, sniffling as she laid eyes on Winona. "Belinda and Jessie kicked me out of the dorm," she revealed with a huff, and Winona realised the tears weren't from sadness at all, but rather anger. The young girl turned her gaze to the ceiling as though her glare might burn a hole through the stone.

Assuming those were the other first years sorted into Gryffindor, Winona hummed. "Why?" she asked curiously, distractedly turning her eyes down to her sketch, but all the while keeping the majority of her focus on this girl, whose hands were balled into angry little fists.

"I spilled Jessie's nail polish," she admitted quietly, then turned to look at her, cheeks turning a soft pink. "I didn't mean to, I'm just clumsy," she added quickly, as though Winona too might condemn her for it.

"And they kicked you out for it?"

The girl nodded, slowly. "They're...unreasonable," she murmured, then cringed as her shoulders dropped, "or maybe they just hate me."

"They sound awful," Winona told her, angry on the girl's behalf. "I'll sic Fred and George on them – they can turn their hair green or something."

She lit up, eyes sparkling with glee at the thought of payback. "You're Winona, right?" she asked, and Winona refocused her attention on the girl.

"That's me."

"I'm Katie Bell," the first year revealed, stepping forwards and holding out a hand to shake. Bemused, Winona reached out and grasped it, shaking delicately. Katie pulled away with a sigh, turning to look at the couch with a pinched frown. "Guess I'll take the couch," she muttered, more so to herself than to Winona. "It's either that or the stairs..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Winona chided her, heart going out to the poor girl, whose shoulders were slumped in saddened defeat. She'd been kicked out of enough bedrooms in her life to know how much it sucked. If she could help, she was going to. "You can come sleep in my dorm."

Katie's eyes went wide. "But where will you sleep?"

"I'll bunk with Alicia," she said with a careless shrug. It didn't matter to her where she slept, she'd probably only get a few restless hours anyway.

Katie frowned and Winona could practically see the cogs turning in her mind, trying to come up with a reason to decline. Winona wasn't having any of it, she wasn't going to let this first year sleep in the common room because her dorm mates were being bitches. Besides, if the twins came back and spotted her sleeping on the couch, she'd wake up with a face covered in ink.

"Seriously, Katie," she said, deciding she might as well give sleep a try and shoving her things into her bag, "come on, the others won't mind."

Katie still seemed hesitant, but she didn't argue as Winona led the way up the stairs and to the right, opening the door that read Second Years and stepping inside.

The girls weren't asleep yet. Hope and Alicia were each on their beds with their Transfiguration textbooks, and Angelina was brushing her long hair at the foot of her bed. "Hey guys," she greeted them, shuffling over so Katie could step inside. "This is Katie," she introduced them, and the girls all paused their activities to peer at the newcomer closely. "Her dorm mates kicked her out for spilling some nail polish, so I told her she could crash with us."

Her friends were all silent for a moment, and Katie looked nervous until Angelina stepped forwards to introduce herself. "That's awful," she said kindly. "I'm Angelina. You're welcome to use my bed. I can bunk with Winnie."

"Two steps ahead of you, Angie," Winona said brightly, dropping her bag at the foot of her own bed before leaping onto Alicia's mattress with all the grace of a mermaid, landing and sinking back into the pillows with a sigh.

Alicia squeaked as Winona sent her homework flying, but quickly straightened it up and settled for rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Katie giggled quietly and Angelina stood to her feet and moved over to the girl, shutting the door behind her and leading her over to Winona's unoccupied bed, chattering happily. "So you're a first year? Were you Muggleborn, or did you always know you were a witch?"

"Half-blood," Katie revealed sheepishly, taking a seat on Winona's bed and wrapping her thick blanket around her shoulders, smiling at Angelina who took a seat on the mattress beside her. "My mum and dad are magical, but both of them are Muggleborn."

"And how do you like Hogwarts?"

"It's amazing."

"Are you glad to be in Gryffindor?"

"Well-"

"Geez, Ange," Winona said with a roll of her eyes. "The girl came here to sleep, not fill out a questionnaire."

"It's okay, really," Katie insisted in a meek but somewhat hopeful sort of voice. "It's actually the most anyone's spoken to me since I got here."

There was a brief silence, none of the other girls knowing how to reply. Ange was the one to break the awkward quiet. "Well, you'd better get used to it," she said slyly. "Being friends with us is going to set you up for the loudest seven years of your life."

Katie beamed so wide it looked like her cheeks would split, but it didn't seem to bother her. She laughed to herself as Alicia wandered over with a box of Every-Flavour Beans in her hands, offering them to the girl with a grin.

"As a rule, we never pick the green ones," Angelina warned with a chuckle. "The only one of us to ever get a good flavour is Blondie over here," she added with an exasperated nod in Winona's direction. "It's like she's been charmed to never pick a bad one or something, the bint."

The twins had a theory on this too, only theirs was more inner-eye related than a mere luck charm. Still, the running gag made her grin to herself fondly. She had a good feeling about Katie, the urge to befriend her coming from that unexplainable place within her, the same place that told her when to wear a jacket for the coming day, or which twin she was talking to when they switched sweaters for a laugh.

Katie would be good for them, she told herself, nodding as she leant back into the pillows, listening to the other girls chatter with a smile on her face.

The girls took to Katie with surprising enthusiasm. Alicia took the girl under her wing almost immediately, helping her with homework when she had the time and always offering her a place to sit during meals. The twins gave the first-year a bit of shit at first, but when Winona took them aside and chastised them, telling them sternly that the girl was bullied by her dorm mates and then slyly suggesting some prank ideas in retaliation, they changed their tune, welcoming the younger witch with fervour, ruffling her hair playfully every time she wandered past.

Katie was beyond thrilled when, as promised, her dorm mates slunk embarrassedly into the Great Hall with acid green hair and eyebrows, much to the school's amusement.

Things were good, Winona found. They were easy. Sure, classes were as challenging as ever – particularly the ones based more on theory – but there was a predictability that came with being at Hogwarts.

Angelina and Alicia could always be found by the fire, halfheartedly attempting to study as they laughed together about something or other, munching on the cookies that Ange's mum sent every other week. Katie was usually with them, shyly taking the offered cookies and telling them stories of her little brother, who had yet to show signs of magic, though it didn't stop him from jumping off of things and trying to make toys fly. Hope preferred to hole up in the dorm, head stuck in a book, wholeheartedly studying every word, and re-writing her essays until she deemed them perfect.

Lee could be found either in the common room or by the lake, usually sleeping, because he just slept at all hours of the day. Winona could only dream about getting that much sleep a week.

The twins were more difficult to find – with them it was usually more a case of 'you don't find us – we find you'. They liked to spend their free time exploring the castle, and since they usually had the Marauder's Map with them, it was rare that Winona knew where they'd be.

It wasn't like they weren't around, though. Often they'd pop up out of nowhere, murmuring an excuse to whoever she was with and dragging her away to aid in their mischief. She was glad they seemed to gravitate towards her naturally, otherwise she worried she'd never see them at all.

At least they had classes together. She was always sitting near at least one of them, and they'd recently learnt how to charm paper swans to fly to a chosen target – a great method for sending notes during class.

They helped her with every big Transfiguration essay McGonagall gave them, since they actually knew what the hell was going on in that class, but other than that they spent little time talking about class, preferring to spend their time laughing about pranking irritating Slytherins and how ridiculous Snape would look with luminescent pink hair.

So Winona was happy, and she was sure there was nothing that could possibly happen to break the pleasant haze of predictable normalcy that had quite abruptly claimed her and her friends. Until she broke her arm.

"Come on, Win – don't be such a crotchety old hag!" Fred crowed at her obnoxiously from where he was floating in the air above them, settled comfortably on a splintered old Shooting Star that trembled every time a particularly strong breeze filtered through the stands surrounding the Quidditch Pitch.

"That felt unnecessarily rude," Winona muttered even as she stuffed her pencil into her bag and pushed it into the shade. Sighing as though she was being asked to do something unpleasant – although it was really the opposite – she held a hand out over the spare broom laying on the grass. With a murmur of command, it flew into her palm, and she curled her fingers around the handle, gripping it firmly and feeling it tremble in her hand, like it were more eager to get into the air than she was.

Fred, George, Alicia and Ange all hovered above her, lazily tossing a Quaffle amongst themselves, each trying to throw the others off their game, all in good fun.

Angelina had made the Quidditch team – Chaser – but Alicia was only a reserve. She wasn't too upset by this decision, knowing it likely meant a secured position on the team the year after. She still liked to practise and make sure she was up to scratch, just in case one of the other Chasers couldn't play and Wood called her into the game.

So every now and then, if they could spare the time and the weather wasn't too bad, they'd take to the Pitch, more often than not coercing Winona down with them, badgering her until she took a spare broom and joined them in the air.

It wasn't that much of a hardship – she really did love to fly – but she liked to make it difficult for them.

"Took you long enough!" George goaded her, using one hand to catch the Quaffle thrown by Ange, then barely waiting a beat for Winona to get settled on her broom before tossing it at her, making her squeak as she lunged to catch it.

"What were you working on?" Alicia asked as Winona threw the Quaffle directly up into the air, swooping down to catch it before reappearing beside her with a smile. "That Transfiguration essay or a new sketch idea?"

"What do you think?" Winona countered, watching as she tossed the ball at the twins, who both dived for it at the same time, only barely avoiding a collision in the process. Fred came out triumphant, holding it up like a trophy and making a crude comment that made his twin snicker.

They were barely playing the Wizard version of catch for five minutes before there was a shout from the Pitch below. The five of them paused, the Quaffle held casually underneath Angelina's arm. A group of Slytherin fourth-years were positioned below them, a group of stocky boys and a lone, thin girl, who seemed to be chewing gum as she stared up at them in contempt.

"Can we help you, Crow-face and Friends?" Fred sniped, scowling down at them, directing the brunt of his disdain at the leader, a tall but thickset bloke named Crowley, whose favourite past time was cornering first-years and forcing them to give him the contents of their pockets. He was a bully, and they'd all copped the same treatment from him the year before. He mostly left them alone now that they were second-years, but he never forgot the twins, who didn't let him get away with his bullying for even a moment. He'd probably been on the receiving end of more pranks than Snape and Ron combined.

"You're on our Pitch," Crowley spat. Winona noted they all had sleek, expensive looking brooms, ones that looked like they weren't about to crumble into dust, like all of theirs.

"Don't see your name on it," George countered without missing a beat.

"There aren't any reservations on the Pitch today, Crowley," Angelina said with bewildering patience, edging closer to interrupt, probably in an attempt to try and avoid the oncoming fight. "I checked."

"You think we care about the reservations?" the girl asked around her mouthful of gum, the smacking sound of it making Winona cringe.

"You don't get to just show up and take the Pitch," Alicia interjected, a wary, fearful sort of glint to her eyes. But her Gryffindor courage was stronger than her sense of doubt, and it was nearly enough to make Winona grin.

"Who's gonna stop us?" Crowley asked tauntingly, a superior glint to his beady eyes, like it were a fight he'd already won.

"Come now, children," Winona said in a tired voice, her exasperation clear. "No need to talk in circles." Crowley glowered at her like he were attempting to set her alight without a wand. "We'll be done in an hour or so, surely you can wait," she added simply. The lead bully's mouth twisted into an ugly grimace.

"I've got a better idea," he spat, hand disappearing into his robes and reappearing with his wand clutched in stubby fingers. Winona barely had a moment to register what was happening before the Slytherin was firing a hex in her direction. She slipped from her broom with a yelp, and felt herself fall through the air, her stomach flying into her throat at the sudden drop.

There were shouts from all around her, but they were mostly just a clump of noise to her muddled head. A beat passed before she was slamming into the hard earth, hands braced out instinctually to catch her fall. The subsequent snap was even louder than the scared shouts of her friends, but she couldn't hear either beyond the screaming pain that rattled up her arm like Fiendfyre.

She may or may not have cursed through her cry of pain, she was in too much pain to be able to tell. There were more shouts from around her, but all she could do was stare down at her forearm, where she could see something hard jutting out from underneath her skin, the bone within snapped in two.

Blackness appeared at the edge of her vision, and she was more than happy to give into the urge to pass out, hoping she at least wouldn't be able to feel the pain while she was unconscious.

When she came to, her arm was aching only slightly, like she'd sketched for too long without pausing to stretch. She was on something soft, and without opening her eyes she sighed and relaxed back into the pillows.

"Miss Andrews?" an unfamiliar voice was saying, a hand gently tapping at her face. Winona let out a frustrated groan, reluctant to wake up fully. "She's coming around now," the voice said again, and she grumbled as she cracked open her eyes.

She was surrounded by her friends, which was always nice, but quickly she realised that the sterile burn of disinfectant she could smell was painfully familiar, and the unfamiliar woman leaning over her left side was wearing what was obviously a nurse's uniform.

Flying into a sitting position, Winona went into autopilot, scrambling to get free of the bed. The nurse looked more than slightly alarmed by her sudden panic, stepping even closer, her hands pressing firmly against the twelve-year-old's shoulders, pushing her back down into the bed.

"Let me go!" Winona screeched, desperate to get free.

"Winona!" the twins' voices were shouting, but she was beyond the point of listening.

"Stop it!" Winona shrieked at the nurse, the dread in her stomach heavy and hot, like the burning coals of a raging bonfire. It ran through her veins like a poison, urging her to get up and away from the terrifying situation she was put it.

She thrashed harder at the nurse, who finally stepped back and held her hands up in something like surrender, probably deciding it wasn't worth the trouble. Winona didn't spare a moment to glance at her friends, just leapt unsteadily from the bed and bolted for the doors, trying to stay upright even as her head swam from the abrupt change of position.

Thankfully they hadn't taken off her shoes, and she was still dressed in her jeans and teeshirt, though if she hadn't been, it honestly wouldn't have stopped her. The soles of her beaten up Chucks slapped against the stone floor and her breath came in sharp puffs and she ran as fast as she could, desperate to get as far away from that awful hospital wing as possible.

Images of sterile white rooms and long needles and hours and hours of nothing but suffocating silence swept through her head. She could barely take it, the scars that littered her body beginning to burn, the mere memory of getting them enough to reawaken the long-gone pain. Gritting her teeth against the influx of painful memories, Winona found herself too weak to keep running, coming to a rather sudden stop in one of the random corridors of the castle.

She was somewhere near the Charms classroom, but thankfully it was a Saturday and nobody was around to see her collapse against the wall, hand pressed over her racing heart, which she could hear pounding in her ears.

"Win?"

Flinching violently at the sound, Winona whirled around with a gasp, staring at the approaching Weasley twin with wide, panicked eyes. The concern and bewilderment in his blue eyes was enough to shock her from her stupor, and she blinked, coming back to herself much like she might after a particularly violent vision.

"Fred?" she murmured, reaching up to scrub at her eyes, which she was relieved to find weren't leaking. That would have been too embarrassing to ever recover from.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, staring at her with a rare frown on his face, the expression one she wasn't used to seeing from her mischievous best friend, so accustomed to his usual blinding grin.

"Fine," she lied with as straight of a face as she could manage, hoping she could play her extreme reaction off as nothing – although that wasn't likely. Her heart was still racing, and she took a deep breath to try and slow it.

"Come on, Win," Fred pressed, and Winona decided that standing up was too difficult, sighing loudly as she let herself slide downwards until she was curled on the floor, head tipped back against the hard stone of the wall behind her.

She took the next few beats to consider her words, eyes closing as she focused, desperately trying to keep her mind from the images of destructive violence that infiltrated her nightmares on the worst of nights. She felt Fred settle onto the cold ground beside her, his lanky body folding in on itself in an attempt to get closer to her, a silent comfort that made the edging panic within her finally begin to recede.

"Ever since we met, you've avoided the hospital wing like you're afraid Pomfrey's going to scalp you in your sleep," he said, matter-of-fact while still being gentle.

Despite herself, Winona couldn't help the way her lips curved upwards in a wry smile. "It's a long story," she muttered dismissively, bringing her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around her legs in small hug.

Fred made a big show of checking up and down the corridor, then peering at his wrist – which was comically bare of a watch. "We've got time," he finally said, and this time she laughed, the sound rather sad, but real all the same.

She didn't want to talk about it – she never did – but she felt like she owed Fred an explanation. He deserved to know why he'd had to patch her up with nothing but tap water and ripped clothing for the past year and a half.

"You know that some of my foster families haven't been..." she began, the words trailing off as she struggled to find the right way to phrase it. From beside her she felt Fred tense up, already beginning to fill in the blanks. "Well, once when I was seven, I had a really bad foster dad. I wasn't exactly an easy kid to control. I was angry at everything, started fights with everyone I could, despite being barely out of my toddler years – and he just couldn't deal. Used to..." she stopped again. She couldn't make herself say it.

Glancing up, she saw that Fred's expression was hard, zero flicker of warmth in his suddenly cold eyes. When he noticed her looking he rearranged his expression into something softer, but she could still see the steel glinting from beneath it all.

"He liked to hit me," she told him quietly, the words spilling from her mouth. "Just for fun. I was small and defenceless and I guess it made him feel more powerful or something...I don't pretend to understand."

She couldn't look at him any more, turning away to stare at the wall opposite them, her eyes glazed over with painful memories of the past.

"Anyway, long story short, one time he hit me too hard. He cracked my skull open and I had to go to the hospital. I had an awful concussion – spent the whole time there freaking out. I was so bad they had to strap me to the bed."

She swallowed, rolling her sore wrist around in a circle.

"Hospitals, doctors, the smell of disinfectant – it all makes me feel like that little seven year old, strapped down in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers, not knowing where she was."

Fred said nothing and the silence threatened to suffocate Winona, who chewed on her tongue until she tasted blood. She was too afraid to look up and gauge his expression, so she kept her eyes on her legs.

"I bet the others think I'm bonkers," she muttered, wondering why her life had to be so difficult. Would she always be doomed to be the crazy one of the group? It was bad enough she was a freak of nature as the first true Seer in a generation – why did she have to be so weird on top of it all?

"No more than usual," Fred told her, speaking for the first time in awhile. There was a lightheartedness to his voice that didn't quite match up with their topic of conversation.

She forced herself to look away from the rips in her jeans and meet Fred's eyes, the colour that of the sky on a perfect summer's day. The warm glint of acceptance in them was comforting, and she felt the tension drain out of her coiled muscles. She was reminded that he cared, more than she'd known was possible, and for the millionth time since meeting them last year on the train, she thanked the stars for the Weasley twins.

"Thanks for telling me that, Win," Fred said softly, and the moment was tender and sweet in a way she couldn't quite understand. "I had no idea. I just thought you didn't like the taste of the potions."

Despite herself Winona let out a peal of unrestrained laughter, and Fred grinned like he'd won a prize.

She settled down again, leaning back, head tapping against the stone wall. "You know, you shouldn't let your fear control you like that," he said conversationally. Her pulse spiked and, confused, she looked over at him to see him staring at the ceiling in thought. "I understand why you're scared, but don't you think you should try and conquer the fear?"

That was the last thing Winona wanted to do, but even she had to admit he had a point. "What do you suggest?" she murmured distantly. It was strange how they were discussing her deepest fears like they were simply deliberating what flavour jam to have on their toast the next morning. But she liked it – it made it feel like less of a big deal.

Fred seemed surprised by the question, like it hadn't been his idea in the first place. "I'm sure I'll be able to come up with something," he shrugged. Winona rolled her eyes. "Really, I'll have you dancing through the hospital wing within days. You just watch."

"My hero," she teased, and the thick atmosphere that had enveloped the corridor evaporated, replaced by a comfortable, warm glow. "So what, you drew the short wand and had to come running after me?" she asked, edging closer, finding Fred warm against the unforgiving chill of the castle's stone floor.

"Oh yeah," he nodded his head solemnly. "George argued that he handled your last mental breakdown – so it was my turn, or I had to make his bed for the whole summer."

"Couldn't have that," she agreed seriously. Fred climbed to his feet, dusting off his threadbare pants before holding out a hand for her to take. In a single, effortless tug he yanked her to her feet, and she smiled at him gratefully, feeling a million times better than when she'd left the hospital wing. "Hey, what happened to that arsehole Slytherin and his idiot lackeys?" she asked as they slowly began to make their way back towards Gryffindor Tower.

Fred's expression darkened, storm clouds appearing in his perfect-sky eyes, and Winona regretted asking. "Well, let's just say that George and I have a week of detention, but that it was worth it to see Crowley covered in boils," he said, voice carefully measured, like he were holding back a range of vile insults.

She wouldn't have minded he let loose, but he probably thought she was fragile enough with her whole panic attack in the hospital wing, so she let it go. Besides, she was smart, and she didn't need any more details to work out exactly what had happened after she'd passed out.

"So what are we gonna tell the gang?" Fred asked, voice returning to something more conversational, the storm disappearing from his eyes as they cleared into their usual summer sky. He noted the confusion on her face and rolled his eyes like she were the one not making any sense. "Well, obviously we're not gonna reveal your tragic backstory to the others," he said like it was obvious, and though she probably should have been hurt by his blasé comment, instead she found comfort in it, lips tipping up in a smile. "I like being the only one who knows," Fred admitted suddenly. "Besides, we both know Alicia couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it. Tell her and the whole school'll know by morning."

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," she told him with a shrug. "Just try not to make me look too crazy, yeah?" she added, genuinely surprised by how light she felt. It was as though telling Fred had lifted the weight of it from her chest, like it wasn't a burden she bared alone. Not anymore.

"Winona, my dear," Fred began dramatically, tossing an arm over her shoulder and tugging her companionably into his side, "you do that plenty enough, all on your own."