Professor Emily Wilton was as beautiful as she was brilliant. She had long, curly hair and skin the colour of fresh coffee beans. Her eyes were piercing, and she spoke with an Italian accent that made even McGonagall swoon.
She was that year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and everyone thought she was beyond cool. The twins in particular were completely bewitched by her, and Winona thought it was hilarious to watch them squabble and trip over one another to gain her attention in class. It wasn't just the boys who loved her; Wilton gave out pieces of vanilla fudge if a student gave a particularly clever answer to a question, and she was patient with those who had trouble learning the theory side of things, like Winona herself.
"Miss Andrews?" the Professor's lilting voice asked as the bell rang throughout the castle, the scattered group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs leaping to their feet, shoving their things into their bags and heading for the door, chattering excitedly about the upcoming Halloween feast. "Do you have a minute?" she asked, and Winona's pulse quickened as she nodded.
"Want us to wait?" Angelina offered kindly, but Winona was already shaking her head.
"I know you want to get started on that essay," she said with a shrug. "I'll just meet you in the common room."
Nodding, Angelina took Alicia's arm and the pair wandered out the door after the twins, who were obnoxiously wondering aloud whether Winona had been caught sketching Snape in women's clothing again. Winona grinned, padding her way up towards Wilton's desk, which had a few framed photos lining the edge and a couple sculptures of what looked like reconstructed rat bones.
"Everything okay, Professor?" she asked, mind racing. Had she been sketching in class? She didn't think she was, but sometimes her hands moved without her even realising. Or maybe her last essay on the differences between Cornish and Irish Pixies wasn't passable.
That wouldn't have surprised her, she'd put maybe twenty minutes of research into it before giving up and bullshitting the whole thing. She'd thought she'd done an okay job, but Wilton was smart and not as easy to fool as Flitwick or Snape (who she didn't actually think she ever fooled; she just figured he didn't give enough of a shit to bother calling her out on it).
"I wanted to talk about your work in class lately," their beautiful teacher said, and Winona suddenly felt like a scolded child, and ducked her head shyly. The last thing she wanted was the cool new teacher thinking she was an idiot. "It's nothing bad. Don't look so afraid, Winona," she said with a light laugh. Winona's cheeks warmed. "Take a seat," she added, absentmindedly flicking her wand, a chair sliding into place on the other side of her desk.
Sinking into the comfortable chair, Winona smoothed out her skirt and hoped it wasn't obvious that her feet were tapping anxiously.
"Winona, I've noticed you've been struggling with the theory side of my classes," Wilton said, getting straight to the point. Swallowing, Winona remained silent, not knowing what to say. The woman smiled and picked up her jar of vanilla fudge. Wary but not about to turn down free fudge, Winona took a piece and plopped it on her tongue. "You seem to struggle mostly with comprehension."
Winona hated that she had to ask, knowing it was going to make her look like an idiot. "What does that mean?"
"It means you read things, but then your brain doesn't retain them, or you don't understand what you've read as easily as other people," Professor Wilton explained patiently. Shifting uncomfortably, Winona processed this slowly. "I studied education at university-" she continued, only to break off with a frown, "you're Muggle-born, aren't you?" she asked, not unkindly.
"Half-blood," Winona corrected tentatively.
"Good," she beamed, white teeth perfectly straight and gleaming, making Winona self-conscious about the gap between hers. "Then you'll know what I'm talking about," she added with something of a laugh. "I studied it at uni, and I had a unit on learning disabilities – I'm not saying you have a disability!" she quickly insisted when Winona's eyes went wide with the word. There was nothing wrong with it, of course, but it was a rather heavy thing to be told after a long day of classes on Halloween, with little lead up to the revelation. "It's just a technical term. I'm no expert, Winona, but I just wanted to let you know that I'd noticed, and that I'm here to help if you need any extra help with your work."
Winona sat in silence for a few beats, listening to the clicking of the grandfather clock in the corner and chewing on the teacher's words carefully. "I do have trouble," she finally confessed, averting her gaze to her hands, which were tangled together in her lap. "I'll read things and they just won't...make sense."
"Does it help when things are explained to you verbally?"
Winona nodded her head. "It's always easier when someone talks it through with me," she admitted, twisting the muggle mood ring that Angelina had given her for her last birthday around her finger, watching as it turned a murky green. "I've never been so great with written words."
"There's no shame in asking for help, Winona," said the professor kindly, "if that's what you need."
Winona considered her words, but knew the last thing she wanted anyone finding out she needed extra tutoring in only her second year. Besides, she wasn't doing that badly. "I think I'm okay for now, Professor," she said, her voice quiet as she glanced sheepishly down at her purple-stained hands.
"But you'll let me know if that changes?" Glancing back up, Winona nodded her head in agreement. Professor Wilton smiled sweetly. "Okay," she said gently before nodding at the door. "Why don't you head on out – I'll see you next lesson."
Thanking her meekly, Winona climbed to her feet and left the classroom, winding her way back through the castle towards Gryffindor Tower.
The common room was abuzz with activity, everybody excited for that evening's Halloween feast. Winona darted through a gap in the crowd and snatched herself a vacated chair by the cracked window, pulling out her well-used sketchbook and flipping to a new page.
Sometimes she was able to feel a vision coming. It would be like a pressure in her mind or a flicker at the back of her eyes. But this was not one of those times.
She was simply sitting there, trying to decide between using charcoal or graphite for her next sketch, when suddenly everything died away. The sounds of the room disappeared, replaced by a hollow ringing. The light of the fire vanished and instead a series of images flashed across her vision, too fast to process.
With the episode came a feeling of intensity, a rush of panic that wasn't her own. Somebody was in serious danger; or at least they would be, sometime in the future.
Where her physical body had seemed to disappear with the onslaught of the vision, it reappeared with a heavy thump, like she'd been thrown back into the present time, gravity reaffirming itself with an unforgiving bang.
She blinked back to herself, clearing her throat as she instinctually turned down to see what she'd predicted. "Welcome back," said a voice in her ear before she could get a good look, and she glanced up to see George reclined by her side, arms folded casually behind his head, looking for all the world like he were simply lounging about – not guarding a temporarily-blind Seer.
"How long?" she asked, voice quiet.
"About ten minutes, once I found you," he replied, still reclined in the ultimate position for relaxation. He met her eyes, a glint of concern in his own. "All right?" he checked, simple and to the point, but she understood.
"All right," she nodded before finally turning to look at the glimpse of the future she'd created.
It was the Harry Potter boy again. He was crouched beside a dozing Ginny Weasley, and there seemed to be blood dripping from his arm. This was strange, sure, but usually when she drew him he was beaten up in some various fashion, so it wasn't completely unexpected.
"Harry Potter again?" George asked, casting the sketch a narrow-eyed look. The twins knew about her reoccurring visions of the young Potter boy – because they just knew everything about her. That was how it was; her partners in crime. "What is it about this kid that keeps you seeing him?" he asked, his chair rocking back on two legs as he gave the room a cursory glance.
"No idea," she replied, turning the page to an unfinished sketch of an owl and halfheartedly returning to it, working on shading in its greying shadows. "Dumbledore says it's because he's got a destiny," she continued, hand moving up to slide the pencil into her hair for safe keeping before reaching for an eraser. "I dunno; the kid's got one bitch of a future coming his way, at any rate."
"He is covered in blood, more often than not," George mused. "Why was Ginny with him in this last one though?" he asked, voice turning cold with protective instinct. "Is she gonna be okay?"
"I'm sure she'll be fine," Winona assured him, looking up from her work to meet his eyes, hoping to put his mind at ease, even though she could guarantee nothing. "Maybe they have a thing in the future," she suggested slyly, if only to make the look of dark concern in his blue eyes disappear. "Maybe they get married," she teased.
George gave a snicker. "Then Merlin help Harry Potter, the poor sod," he murmured. It was enough to send Winona into peals of laughter, tipping her head back against his shoulder as she giggled.
"What's this?" a sneering voice interrupted the mirthful atmosphere they'd created, and their laughter petered off as they turned to look at the newcomer, a familiar student with stringy, off-yellow hair. "Weasley and Andrews all over one another? What a surprise," Allison Leaker said dryly. "If you and Fred could keep the PDA to yourselves and not force it upon the people studying down here, that would be great," she finished with a toothy scowl.
Indignant, Winona pushed away from George to sit up properly, scowling at her in return. "First of all, this is George," she said slowly, like she were speaking to an idiot. "And I don't see anybody else complaining. Just because the sound of others' happiness makes your lonely, evil little ears bleed, doesn't mean it's the same for everyone else."
Leaker gave an ugly sneer, but Winona was unmoved, staring back without expression. "Watch yourself, Andrews," she finally spat, not bright enough to come up with a better retort. With a final jeer she spun around, her limp hair nearly slapping George in the face.
George gave a snort as she left, storming up the stairs towards the girls' dormitories with a loud series of unnecessary stomps. "You know she'll hex you for that," he chuckled, scratching at his temple as he relaxed once more in his chair.
"Let her try," Winona shrugged, turning back to her artwork, unperturbed.
"All this because she called you a trollop in your first year?" he asked, still amused.
"It doesn't matter that I spend all my time with blokes," she said without looking up. "I was eleven," she reminded him, "and you can't be a trollop at eleven."
"You can try," he replied brightly.
Snorting to herself, she yanked the pencil from her hair and blindly threw it in his direction. He yelped and a smile found its way onto her face.
Halloween passed without further incident. Winona continued her meetings with both Dumbledore and Trelawney, putting up with the herbs and incense the latter liked to burn throughout her classroom that made her head feel all foggy.
Soon autumn turned to winter, and Christmas was upon them.
"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" asked George the night before the holidays began and all of her friends would be taking the Hogwarts Express back home for the week.
"I'll manage," she assured him with an exasperated roll of her eyes.
"You know, Allison Leaker's going to be staying at Hogwarts this year, too," said Fred, undeniably concerned.
Winona scowled. "I'll just avoid her."
"And if she seeks you out?"
"I'll hex her without a second thought."
"How'd she even get into Gryffindor, anyway?" George wondered, swiping a handful of Every Flavour Beans from the box in Winona's lap. "You'd think she belonged in Slytherin, or at the very least, Ravenclaw."
"How many time do I need to tell you?" asked Angelina from where she was sat cross-legged on the carpet below the couch they were sat on in the common room. "Which House you're sorted into has nothing to do with temperament. It's all about what you value."
George scowled. "Well, she makes us look bad."
And Angelina certainly couldn't argue with him there.
The twins and the rest of their gang left on the train the next morning, leaving Winona all alone at Hogwarts.
Allison Leaker was the only other Gryffindor staying over the break – plus a handful of Ravenclaws and a lone Hufflepuff. Winona stayed away from the common room – she wasn't afraid of Leaker, but she didn't feel like being forced into a fight she didn't want to have. She was trying to fight less, not more.
She spent most of her free time hanging out in the astronomy tower, laid on the floor with a scattering of art supplies surrounding her, charcoal and watercolour staining her hands. It was peaceful, and she enjoyed the endless quiet – so rare at a place like Hogwarts.
Because of the break, Dumbledore suggested she see Professor Trelawney more frequently, since she had so much spare time. She didn't want to say no – mostly because she knew it made sense – and so she went reluctantly.
Trelawney pushed her to her limits without seeming to realise she was doing it, and Winona shuffled back to the dorms exhaustedly after each tiring session, no closer to understanding her precognitive abilities than when she'd begun.
The night before her friends were due back at the school, she fell into a vision just before bed.
It wasn't a violent one, but rather gentle, quiet and somehow welcoming, like coming home after a long day. She couldn't see anything clearly, but she could feel warmth and care wrapping around her like a blanket.
Coming back to the present, she found yet another sketch of the young Harry Potter on the page before her. It was like the aether that surrounded everything in the world – even time – was trying to tell her something about him.
He'll be so important, she could almost hear it whispering in her ear as she stared down at the boy on the page, not just to the world, but to you.
Harry Potter wasn't doing anything particularly special in her prediction. He was sitting at a frosted over window, running his fingers down the feathers of that snowy owl she so often saw him with. He looked happy on the surface, smiling down at something outside the window that she couldn't see, but deep in his eyes there was a sadness – one she almost felt she could understand.
He seemed lonely.
"I just don't get it," she complained to Dumbledore the next day, sitting on a chair in his office, munching halfheartedly on a jammy dodger. "I know he's meant to have this great destiny – but I'm seeing this kid all the time, sir. It's like I'm trying to tell myself something. Like a warning; but not a bad one."
"What are you asking me, Miss Andrews?" asked Dumbledore patiently, eyes glittering behind the glass of his spectacles.
She shuffled forwards on the chair, meeting his stare imploringly. "It feels like we're connected somehow, but I can't figure out how that would be possible."
Something came to her, sharp and unexpected, and she couldn't stop the words from escaping her lips even if she'd wanted to.
"Who were his parents?"
Dumbledore's eyebrows quirked up towards his snowy hair, but otherwise he didn't react. "They were Lily and James Potter. Both students at Hogwarts; both in Gryffindor."
"You knew them?"
"I did."
She chewed on her next words carefully. "What was his mother's maiden name?" she finally asked. Once the question was out there, there was nothing that could be done to take it back. And Dumbledore was staring at her with absolute pity in his eyes, and it made her want to go find some dusty corner of the castle to hide in and never resurface again.
"Her maiden name was Evans," he told her carefully. He spoke extra slowly, ensuring there was no confusion. "Lily was in no way blood related to you, Winona. I'm sorry."
Winona grimaced, looking away. It'd been a long shot anyway. "I just get the feeling that I know him," she said stubbornly. "Like I've seen him somewhere before."
"Maybe you simply see him so often in your visions, you can no longer tell the difference," the old headmaster suggested, voice thready and soft. She didn't like the sound of that, but it was as close to a plausible theory as she'd come in months.
"Maybe," she finally said, quiet and unconvinced.
"You rarely ask after your own parents," Dumbledore said suddenly, and the words surprised her so much that she had no idea how to respond. "I'd have thought you'd have wanted to know everything you could."
Winona's mouth went dry. "You knew them?"
"Yes."
The knowledge of this weighed on her heavily, but that same wall she'd always kept built up was strong and unyielding in her head. "I know their names," she shrugged, reaching down to tug at a loose thread on her robes. "I know they were magical, and both in Gryffindor. Beyond that, there really isn't much I need to know."
Dumbledore eyed her like she were a particularly stubborn puzzle, and she met his probing gaze with a flat stare of her own. "Why is that?" he asked, as if knowing the answer to this might help him understand her more.
"They're dead and gone. Learning about who they were would only hurt. I'd miss them more. At least this way they remain distant figures – people I love because I should, not because I know who they were. It's…easier…that way," she whispered.
Dumbledore's sapphire eyes never left hers. "That's an awfully lonely way to look at it," he said quietly, not quite a judgement on her. More an observation.
"Yeah," she agreed, and left it at that.
The grandfather clock in the corner began to chime, and Dumbledore broke his stare to glance at it, a liveliness returning to his eyes. "The rest of the school will have been back for some time, now," he reminded her. "I believe your friends will be looking for you."
Winona stood from the chair, stuffing what remained of her uneaten jammy dodger into her mouth. "See you later, professor," she said around her mouthful, slinging the strap of her threadbare bag over her shoulder and making for the door.
"Winona," called Dumbledore before she could leave. Hand on the handle, she turned to look. He was staring back at her intensely. "It doesn't do to get so busy with life that you can't find the time to dream," he told her softly. "Dreaming is what makes life worth living. You should know that better than most, as an artist."
Winona wasn't so sure she agreed, but she just nodded at the headmaster and left.
The common room was packed when she got back, everybody lingering and catching up again after the holidays. The twins were easy to spot. The loudest in the room, they were stood in front of a small group of their friends, going through what looked like some kind of mime routine to retell their antics over the break.
She joined their rapt audience, and the two were so caught up in their story that they didn't even notice she was there until they finished with theatrical bows and she stuck her fingers in her mouth to whistle loudly.
"Win!" they cheered, and just like that she was swung up into a bear hug by George. She hugged him back, then laughed as he spun her with a flourish into Fred's arms. Leaping onto him, she hugged him tightly, briefly feeling his heartbeat beneath his thin sweater.
"Did you catch the end of the performance?" Fred asked eagerly.
"I think you're becoming too predictable," she replied, letting him go and tilting her head back to grin at him. "If you're gonna keep on pranking Ron, I reckon you should find some new material, rather than just spiders."
"But you know what they say…" said George.
"If it ain't broke…" finished Fred.
Rolling her eyes, Winona was distracted by the appearance of Lee, who swept her up in a quick hug before presenting her with a sugar quill to work on leading up to that night's feast.
There would be time to tell the twins about her encounter with Dumbledore later. For now, she was just happy to enjoy all her friends' company once more, and listen to the tales of their holidays and pretend hers hadn't been lonely and sad in comparison.
The days blended into weeks blended into months, and everything was much the same. The twins got a whole month's detention for mixing fireworks into one of their potions in Snape's class and nearly blinding half the class – it'd taken almost three days for Winona to stop seeing white spots in her vision, but the twins kept swearing up and down that it'd been worth it just to see Snape's face.
March came quickly, and before Winona knew it, it was her birthday.
"We have to do something," said Fred with the kind of conviction usually reserved for church.
"Yeah," agreed George fervently. "It's not every day a witch turns thirteen."
"Okay, fine," she relented, ten minutes into an argument that was getting her nowhere. "You can plan something. But it has to be small."
It was the opposite of small.
Walking into the common room after dinner the next night, Winona was horrified to find the whole room done up in poorly-crafted hand-made decorations and an assortment of sweets that made her teeth ache just looking at them.
"Happy Birthday!" the twins crowed as a series of miniature fireworks exploded in floral patterns above their heads. Well, she thought, this explained why they'd been missing during dinner. "Party on us! Rokka – hit the music!"
The rest of the Gryffindor's in the room cheered and began to head for the food just as there was the scratchy sound of a record player, followed quickly by the latest Weird Sisters song.
"I thought we agreed on small," she said once she'd fought her way through the already-dancing older students to reach the twins, disapproval lacing her voice.
"This is small," argued George.
"Yeah," agreed Fred. "We could've had it in the Great Hall."
Winona rolled her eyes hard enough to give herself a headache. "You're impossible."
"Why, thank you," said Fred with a deep, dramatic bow.
She danced halfheartedly with the twins, then managed to escape to go munch on the food drinks that the House Elves had supplied. She was just sipping on something fizzy and sweet when Alicia appeared, bringing her into a side-hug while she kept on dancing. Struggling to keep from spilling her drink, Winona squeezed her back.
"This is the best party since Angelina's in October," she called over the music, something Muggle that Winona recognised distantly.
"You know the twins," she replied. "They don't do things by halves."
It was all around a fun night, but when McGonagall finally came in and put a stern end to the party, Winona couldn't deny she was relieved. She wasn't good at being around people for so long; she was exhausted.
The majority of the dorm wandered happily up to their beds, but Winona sent her friends up ahead of her and instead took a heavy seat on the couch by the fire, enjoying the quiet that was such a contrast to the roar of noise of only moments ago.
The House Elves had cleared up after them with a few magical snaps of their fingers, and once the common room was immaculate once more, they apparated back down to the kitchens to do whatever it was they did with their spare time.
"So, best birthday party ever?" a voice piped up, and Winona was unsurprised when two bodies fell onto the couch on her either side.
She turned from one twin to the other, smiling. "Best birthday party ever," she confirmed quietly. The twins said nothing, seeming to sense there was more. "Only birthday party ever, actually," she added, the confession coming easy. They wouldn't pity her, and she wanted them to know how much it meant to her that they'd gone to the trouble. "So, thank you."
"You've never had a birthday party before?" asked George, a frown in his voice.
"Well, I think I did when I was really little – before my parents died," she admitted. "I have this distant memory of being with people I loved, and a bright orange cake, and blowing out candles…"
She was faraway in a way she usually wasn't unless in a vision, but she was brought back to the present by a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look at Fred. "Do you remember much?" he wondered quietly. "I mean, you were three when they died. You must remember something. What they looked like?"
She shut her eyes, trying to sort through the vague wisps of memory she had floating in her head.
"I just remember…" she trailed off, struggling to think. Her parents were faceless shadows, like echoes of people she felt she'd never known. "Dark hair," she said quietly. "They had dark hair."
She opened her eyes in time to see the twins exchange a glance. "Then how…?" asked George tentatively, reaching out to grasp a lock of her blonde hair, tugging at it gently.
Winona sighed. "No idea," she said quietly, brushing back her hair self-consciously. "Anyway," she continued, intentionally dismissive. "Thanks for the party."
"Any time, Win," said Fred, the words ringing with sincerity.
"Well, once a year, I should hope," she poked him playfully as she climbed to her feet. "I'll see you two in the morning."
"Ugh, we've got that Herbology essay due," groaned George.
Winona smiled. "Night, pixie-brains," she said in farewell, disappearing up the stairs to lose herself in her sketching and lock tightly away any and all thoughts of the life she'd once had.
April came and with it, the twins' birthday. It went by in much the same fashion as hers; a big party, lots of sweets and plenty of fun, and then before she knew it, the school year was nearly over and Winona and her friends were sitting for their exams.
Winona didn't tend to take exams all that seriously – but then Charlie Weasley got in her ear.
"Shouldn't you be studying?" came Charlie's voice as he took a seat in the open chair beside her in the library. The seventh-year leaned over her shoulder to peer at the sketch of some Cornish Pixies she was colouring in.
"Said the pot to the kettle," she replied without looking up.
"No, really," he continued impishly. "The library's here for a reason, isn't it? And I doubt that reason is to provide you with a quiet place to draw."
She raised her head and eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you and what have you done with Charlie?" she demanded. "Are you actually Percy on Polyjuice Potion? Be honest."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Funny," he drawled as he opened his bag and dug around inside for his Transfiguration textbook and a spare roll of parchment. "Look, I only say it out of concern."
"Concern?" she looked up at him through narrowed eyes.
"There was a kid in my year a few years ago," he began. "Walter Greene, he was called. He failed every exam they gave him in our third year and he got kicked out."
Winona went still. "You're telling me they'll actually toss you out if you don't pass final exams?"
Charlie shrugged. "It's been known to happen."
That night as Winona tried to get to sleep, she found herself tossing and turning, struck with an imagination that ran rampant.
She didn't expect to fail every exam she took – she pretty much had Charms, Defence and Astronomy in the bag – but beyond that, it was all down to chance. What if she failed just enough exams to get thrown out of Hogwarts, the only place she'd ever felt safe and accepted?
Suddenly too anxious to sleep, Winona quietly gathered up her things and hurried down to the common room. It was late enough that everyone was upstairs getting a solid night's sleep for the day of exams ahead, so she had the common room all to herself.
She took a seat on the floor by the dwindling fire, spread out her Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology and History of Magic textbooks, and dived into her studies. She didn't come up for air at all, shifting from one subject to another, desperate to soak up as much knowledge as she possibly could in time for the exams the following morning.
That was how Fred and George found her the next morning. Coming downstairs, eyes bright with a good night's rest, they shared a look as they found Winona splayed out across the floor, ink stains on her fingers that for once had nothing at all to do with artistic purposes.
"Winnie?" asked Fred as they cautiously approached, treating her like a wild animal. She wondered what she must look like, to evoke such a strong reaction. "Whatcha doing?" he asked, carefully casual.
"Studying," she replied, reaching up to scrub at her dry eyes before turning her attention back to her History of Magic textbook, trying to make herself focus on a paragraph about the International Warlock Convention of 1289.
"It's-" he glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, "six-thirty in the morning, and you're telling me you woke up early to study."
"Of course not," she scoffed. "I never went to bed."
Fred turned to George, brow furrowed. "She's lost it."
George nodded solemnly. "Agreed."
"No, listen," Winona insisted, tearing herself from the page of the textbook – the letters had long since turned to gibberish anyway, "if I don't pass these exams, they could throw me out of Hogwarts! Shit, why didn't I study before now? I'm an idiot!"
She dropped her face to the piece of parchment she was taking notes on, letting out a loud groan that made the other students filtering past look down at her with pity. "Win," said George, crouching down and slipping his hands underneath her arms, gently dragging her upright. When she lifted her head back up she had a splattering of ink on her forehead, and George snorted in amusement as he used the end of his sleeve to wipe it away. "You're a mess."
"I know!" she squawked. "A mess who's gonna fail four out of seven of her exams abysmally and get thrown out of school in only her second year!"
Fred rolled his eyes. "Who got in your head?" he asked. "Was it Angelina?"
Winona huffed, glaring up at him grumpily. "Nobody 'got in my head'," she insisted. The twins looked unconvinced. "Charlie may have mentioned something about a past student failing out of school in his third year-"
"You can't listen to Charlie!" argued Fred.
"Yeah, once when we were little he tried to convince us we were actually girls," added George, righteous irritation sparking in his eyes.
Winona considered that a moment. "…Did it work?"
The two were silent, telling her everything she needed to know. She was kept from reacting when Fred dived right back into his argument. "You're not going to flunk out of Hogwarts in your second year, Win," he said with surprisingly patience. "You're going to pass everything just fine."
"Except Potions," interjected George. "But that one doesn't count – Snape rigs it against us."
Winona didn't have it in her to snicker at his dark humour. She looked up at the twins, a vulnerability in her large eyes that stunned them. "What if I don't get to come back?" she whispered, as if she didn't want to castle overhearing and getting any ideas. "What if I don't get to be a witch anymore?"
Fred met her stare, compassion in his own. "That's not going to happen," he promised her. "We're not going to let that happen. Are we, Georgie?"
"Right you are, Freddie," said George emphatically. "If they wanna kick you out, they'll have to go through us."
"And you know that's no easy task."
And finally they broke through her growing wall of anxiety. Nodding once as if to reassure herself, Winona smiled. "Thanks," she said, awkward but still wholly sincere.
"Come on," said Fred, knowing she didn't like people making a fuss. "Let's get down to breakfast and pump you full of caffeinated tea to get you through the day."
And that sounded a lot better than staying holed up in the common room, cramming until there was no space left in her brain to remember to get dressed, let alone list the twelve uses of dragon blood. "Sounds like a plan."
She got through the week of exams in one piece, and it was all Winona could do to breathe when she got her results.
She'd flunked Potions and Transfiguration, but she'd managed to score passing marks in her other subjects, and even got an O in Astronomy and an E in Defence and Charms. It wasn't so bad, and she felt even better when Charlie walked into the common room on the last day of school like purple ink staining his skin, like an ink bomb had gone off in front of his face – clearly curtesy of the twins.
Winona met with Dumbledore one last time before the end of the year, using the password to get access up to his office and knocking quietly on the large oak doors.
"Tea?" he offered, as he always did, and Winona nodded gratefully, watching as he waved a hand and the tea set about making itself. "You had the term's final lesson with Professor Trelawney the other night, didn't you?" he asked conversationally, taking a seat in his massive, ornate chair. "How did it go?"
"As well as it always goes," she replied, pulling at a loose thread on her bag, which sat balanced on her lap. A small teacup and saucer floated towards her and she plucked it from the air, taking a sip and sighing as it warmed her up.
"Have you learnt anything from her this year?" he wondered.
"Learned from her?" Winona echoed dubiously. "Bit hard to 'learn' from her when I'm doing everything I can to keep from pulling my hair out with boredom."
Although Dumbledore's lips curved up at the ends, the look in his eyes was disapproving. "There is a method to her madness, Miss Andrews," he said quietly, opening the lid to a small tin full of biscuits and offering it out to her.
"So you admit it's madness, then," she said triumphantly as she leaned over and picked out one filled with cream. Dumbledore just stared at her patiently, seeming to sense there was more to it than that, as he always did. Winona was stubborn, however, and just silently chewed her biscuit.
"Are you making no progress, then?" he asked persistently.
Winona sighed. "I wouldn't say that," she confessed. "I'm beginning to kind of make sense of the visions when I have them. I still can't remember what I've seen beyond the picture I've drawn, but when I think back on the vision I've had, I can get a sense about it."
"In what regard?"
She took another sip of tea as she thought on how to answer. "If it's going to happen soon, I can feel an urgency about it, like I know it's coming up quickly. Or if the person in the vision is scared, or lonely, I can sense that too." She paused, taking another bite of biscuit. "It's still nonsense at the time, though."
"Progress is still progress, no matter how seemingly insignificant," he told her gently.
She had to give him that; it was good advice.
"Do you have anything new you wanted to show me before you leave in the morning?" he asked, peering at her curiously from behind those half-moon spectacles.
"A few," she said, putting her tea on the desk and digging her sketchbook out of her bag. Dusting some pencil shavings off the cover before opening it to the right page and handing it over to the Headmaster.
He flicked through the images, each and every one of them centring on young Harry Potter. Standing beside his trunk looking lonely, sitting in a carriage with a boy whose face was turned from view, walking down a corridor in Hogwarts beside a girl with a massive head of dark, bushy hair.
"They're getting more frequent," she said quietly as the Headmaster finished making himself copies of her work. "Why do you think that is?"
"This July 31st, Harry Potter will be turning eleven years old," he revealed, a distant look in his eyes, like he were seeing something she couldn't. "Which means…"
"He'll be starting at Hogwarts next term," she finished knowingly.
"The time is coming when we will finally meet young Mr Potter, Winona," he explained with the solemn conviction of an adult who knew something she did not. "And that is when the real work begins."
"Work, sir?" she asked, frowning up at him in confusion.
Dumbledore's only answer was a hazy smile and a soft tutting noise. "You'd best be off," he said dismissively. "You need rest, I can see it in your eyes."
Winona lifted a hand to her face, self-consciously poking at the bags under her eyes. "I've been having trouble sleeping," she murmured.
"Since when?"
"Since birth."
Dumbledore didn't smile at her wit, he just nodded gravely, as if that certainly made sense to him. Winona smiled, tired all of a sudden, and stood to leave.
"Thanks for the tea, Professor," she said politely.
"My pleasure. Oh, and as with last year, Winona-"
"Write you if I have an important vision that I don't think can wait until September, and under no circumstances send my sketches to anyone by owl," she relayed with a nod of her head.
Dumbledore smiled, a touch more sincere that before. "Very good," he nodded, and turned back to his work.
But Winona had one more question. "Sir?" she asked, and he lifted his head with raised brows. "Is it true Professor Wilton is leaving Hogwarts this year?"
"It is."
"May I ask why?"
Dumbledore's sparkling eyes narrowed just a bit, as though considering whether to tell her the truth. "She had some commitments back home that required her attention," he finally said, and she wondered whether that was true or not.
"Oh," she murmured, looking away for a just a moment to grieve. She would miss Wilton – she'd cared about her students in a way Winona wasn't sure she'd ever seen before. It was refreshing. "Who will you be hiring to replace her?" she wondered.
"I've not yet chosen somebody to fill the role."
Winona frowned, a sudden wave of foreboding crashing over her. It was so strong it made her ears ring with silent noise, and she blinked at the force of it.
"Miss Andrews?" Dumbledore was asking, brow furrowed in concern.
She came back to herself. "I have a feeling that you should be careful who you allow within these walls, sir," she said without stopping to ask herself why.
Dumbledore looked intrigued. "What makes you say that?"
Winona smiled, but there was no mirth at all behind her eyes. "Just a feeling."
He seemed to sense this was a real, genuine warning, and she could tell he wanted to ask more. But he seemed to rightly sense that she had nothing more to give. "I'll take great care in my choices, Winona," he promised her with a bow of his head.
It was good enough for her. "See you next term, Professor," she said with a nod of her own, letting the door shut on Dumbledore's office for another year.
She and the twins snuck down to the kitchens around midnight, sitting by the massive fireplace to warm their extremities and laughing over tankards of butterbeer. It was the perfect way to end the school year, and when Winona stepped off the train the next day and walked back out into the Muggle world, she wasn't filled with dread for the coming months, but instead just an excitement for what was to come next.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed; a little shorter than usual, but the next one will be longer. We'll also by moving onto Philosopher's Stone events in the next chapter, which is when the ball really starts rolling. We're not quite slowing down just yet, still brushing by these first few years - as it's mainly all exposition anyway. But we're getting close to the good stuff; I can taste it.
Let me know what you thought, and I'll see you in the next one! xx