Seeing Harry Potter in real life was still kind of disconcerting. Winona felt like she knew him already, having seen him in her visions so many times before.
He was a small boy of only eleven, his hair absolutely wild and his eyes so green they might as well have been emeralds shoved into his eye sockets. He was skinny, like he hadn't eaten in weeks, but he had a wide smile on his face every time she saw him. By coincidence, he'd made fast friends with George and Fred's younger brother, Ron, who still blushed any time Winona got within five feet of him.
She wanted to meet Harry properly, but not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Rather because she knew he'd lost his parents young – like her – and she knew he'd grown up knowing absolutely nothing of the Wizarding world – also like her – so she could only imagine how overwhelmed he was by everything.
Not to mention the magnitude of his destiny, the likes of which she was only just beginning to understand. He was going to do great things, of that much she was certain – but she couldn't very well lead with that, could she?
She saw student after student go up to the kid, staring at him like he were some kind of rare, exotic animal on display. She didn't want to add to his discomfort, so despite her urge to speak with him properly, she held back until an opportunity presented itself naturally.
It just so happened that a couple weeks into term she wandered into the Great Hall early, not having gotten much sleep thanks to her nightmares coupled with Angelina's coughing (she had a horrendous cold but loathed Pepper-Up Potion, so she just waited for it to go away, much to the entire dorm's displeasure) to find the opportunity sitting before her.
Ron and Harry were perched by themselves at the far end of the Gryffindor table, chewing on bacon and laughing at a teasing impression Ron was making of somebody.
She approached them soundlessly, seeming to appear from thin air as she took a seat opposite the pair of them. "Hey, Pipsqueak," she greeted the youngest Weasley brother warmly, and Ron's face went red at the nickname.
"Winona," he groaned, embarrassed, meekly stabbing a fried egg with his fork.
"Hi, Harry," she said instead of responding. "Congratulations on making Gryffindor – I'm sure you heard how excited the twins were when you were sorted," she added with a grin. Although Harry smiled politely, he was still confused about who she was.
"Harry, this is Winona, she's best mates with Fred and George," Ron introduced her with a lazy wave of his hand. She rolled her eyes at his lack of enthusiasm.
"It's nice to meet you, Boy-Wonder," she told Harry happily. The poor kid only looked more bemused by the strange nickname. She grinned at him, feeling a familiar kind of warmth in her guts, like something within her recognised him, like they knew one another on a biological level. She supposed her visions connected them in ways even she didn't quite understand. Yet.
"She's got a thing about nicknames," Ron warned Harry around a mouthful of sausage. "Bloody annoying," he added, but to Winona it was like water off a duck's back.
"Now, now, Ronnikins," she chided him playfully, and he looked away, ears burning an embarrassed red. "How do you like Hogwarts, Harry?" she asked the bespectacled boy kindly.
His emerald eyes lit up as he glanced towards the enchanted ceiling, a smile on his lips. "I think it's the best place in the whole world," he told her with overflowing sincerity. She couldn't help but grin at his blatant, innocent awe.
"You're not wrong," she replied with a fond smile on her lips, glancing upward herself to briefly marvel at the cloudy ceiling she'd adored since she'd first seen it two years ago. "How're you enjoying your classes?" she asked a moment later, attention back on the conversation.
"They're good so far," he told her, then grimaced deeply as though an unsavoury thought had crossed his mind. "Well, except for Potions..."
"Say no more," Winona interjected with a grimace of her own. "Snape's the absolute worst, especially if you're in Gryffindor."
"He's horrible in general, sure," agreed Ron emphatically. "But he's awful to Harry! You'd think he did something to offend him – he hates him!"
"It's true," Harry confirmed with a sigh, seeming confused yet also resigned to this fact.
"Don't you worry, I'll get the twins to cook him up something special," she promised him slyly. Harry was bemused by the reply.
"Fred and George are the biggest pranksters in the school," Ron explained with something of an excited grin, like the thought of Snape suffering at the hands of his brothers was the best thing to happen all week – although he was probably just glad their efforts would be aimed at somebody who wasn't him for once. "If anyone can make him suffer, it's them."
"Who're we making suffer?" the twins had appeared over Winona's shoulder and she rolled her eyes at them as they took a spot on either side of her, pulling their fair share of bacon and eggs onto plates and clumsily pouring themselves each a pumpkin juice.
"Snape," she told them, pouring a goblet of apple juice for herself and taking a healthy gulp.
"Too easy," the pair snorted around their food. "We've already got a prank involving a hair growth potion we nicked. Think you'll enjoy that one. He bothering you already?" Fred asked Harry, who nodded grimly.
"He hates me."
"I can guarantee that he hates us more," George said cheerfully. "One day we'll tell you all about the Love Potion incident of '89."
Harry grinned at the vague promise, probably having just as much fun imagining the brilliance of the story as he would if he heard it. Winona grinned back as she pushed the plate of fried eggs closer to him. "Don't worry about Snape," she told him. "He'll get what's coming to him."
"So, Quirrell's a joke, isn't he?" Ron spoke up, snorting as he spoke, cutting a long sausage into bite-sized pieces with clumsy movements. "Why does his turban smell so bad?" he wondered, mouth half full of food.
"He stuffs garlic inside it, to ward off the vampire he once crossed in Romania," Fred revealed in a gossipy tone.
"Yeah, that way he's protected wherever he goes," George agreed wholeheartedly.
Winona laughed at the pair and the fact that both Ron and Harry looked convinced by the tale. She decided not to say anything against it.
"Seamus asked how he defeated that zombie in Africa, but he just went all red and changed the subject," Harry told them, and the trio of older students laughed.
"Ron's right, he's a total joke," Winona confirmed. "Our first lesson, he showed up holding an iguana and couldn't say the word 'werewolf' without flinching."
"Who'd you have last year?" Ron asked curiously, picking up a strip of bacon with his fingers and biting into it.
"Professor Wilton," the twins informed them in a breathless tone of voice. Harry and Ron exchanged looks of raised eyebrows while Winona just snorted.
"These two lumps fancied her," she told them cheekily, tossing her thumb in the twins' direction.
"Winona, everybody fancied her," George corrected her rather impatiently, only serving to make her laugh again. At that moment, Neville, Dean and Seamus all appeared, moaning about their homework for Transfiguration. Sensing the focus had shifted, Winona sent Harry a little wave of goodbye, and he smiled back in farewell, watching as she turned and followed the twins further down the table to continue talking where little ears couldn't hear.
"Okay, here's the new plan for our annual, self-appointed challenge," Fred began, voice hushed.
"What's so appealing about the Forbidden Forest, anyway?" Winona asked skeptically, pouring herself some more porridge, delicately sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on top. "Do you've any idea what kind of horrible things are lurking down there?" she mused, shuddering at the thought.
"That's the point, my innocent little friend," Fred said patronisingly. Winona shot him her most withering glare and the condescension melted from his face like wax in the sun.
George rolled his eyes. "It's the one place on the grounds we haven't properly explored yet," he explained. "Besides, who knows what we might discover?" he added, a maddened, excited glint to his eye that matched his twin's.
"This year, we're more determined than ever to get a good look around," Fred agreed. "Say you'll help us with the contingency plans?" he begged, blue eyes going wide and pleading. "You're so good at covering for us – we'd never trust anyone else to lie to McGonagall about our whereabouts."
Winona laughed. "Oh, shut up."
Lee appeared then, sliding onto the bench beside Fred and beginning ramble about the Quidditch tryouts happening that afternoon. Winona looked away, eating her breakfast in peace and idly scanning the hall, only to pause with a catch of breath as her eyes landed on Adam Bradley at the Ravenclaw table.
He was talking to his friend, but he must have sensed her looking and glanced up, shooting her a wide, sincere smile. She smiled back as confidently as she could, then he turned away and she was left with shaky hands and a racing pulse.
"You coming to my first game, Winona?" Lee was asking her, and she shoved her stupid, fluttering insides away and focused on her friends.
"Lee, you're only commentating," she reminded him dryly.
"And some would argue it's the most important position there is," he sniped back. Winona rolled her eyes.
"I never miss a match," she assured the three of them. "So don't worry, Lee, I'll be there to mock you once the whole thing's over."
The twins snorted with laughed, and Lee shot her a grimace that only served to widen her grin. "Sucks that we have to use the school brooms, huh?" George said conversationally.
"Yeah, I'd give anything for my very own Nimbus," Fred agreed with a wistful sigh. "I hate that the school's old Shooting Stars vibrate if we try and go over fifty feet."
"And the way they always fly just slightly to the left?" George complained. "Ugh," he grunted, putting down his juice with enough force for the liquid to splash over the sides.
"The school's Comets aren't so bad," Winona reminded them. "Why don't you use some of those for the match?"
That sparked a conversation about the merits and disadvantages of broom styles, and Winona was happy to sink into the conversation, forgetting about Adam Bradley and his stupid, distinctive brown eyes and stupid, handsome face.
The days passed as they all got used to being at school again. Their usual routine once more settled around them and Winona found herself waking up late, scrambling to get ready in time and then having a lightning breakfast before hurrying to class with the twins. On Monday nights they had Astronomy, and on Wednesday nights Winona had her private lessons with Professor Trelawney.
It was a week later that Winona found herself in the Great Hall at dinner. She was sitting by Harry and Ron – but paying them little attention as Katie was telling a brilliant joke involving a hag and a cat with three eyes – when the twins tumbled into view.
"There you are!" Winona exclaimed, shooting Katie an apologetic look before turning to the twins. "Been looking all over for you."
But they ignored her, facing Harry and talking to him excitedly. "Well done," George was saying in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too — Beaters."
"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."
From what Winona could gather, Harry had somehow made the House team, and her jaw dropped in shock. "You're kidding," she said, shifting closer to the pair of them and revealing she'd been listening in. "You're on the House team?!"
"Yeah," Harry said with a grin, like he could barely believe it himself, and Ron patted his new friend on the shoulder with a proud beam.
"Congrats, Boy-Wonder," she told him happily. "Can't wait to see you in action!"
"We've got to go," Fred said suddenly, glancing over his shoulder at something. "Lee reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."
Winona snorted her skepticism. "Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week," George replied smugly.
"Could be the one at the base of the stairs to the docks," Winona interjected.
The twins rolled their eyes. "We've told you before, Winnie, it doesn't count as a secret passageway if there's swimming involved," George said slowly.
"Right then, are you coming or what?" Fred added impatiently, making a gesture towards the doors.
"Nah," she told him, turning back to her food. "I'm starved, and I'm not about to let this perfectly good plate of food go to waste."
"Suit yourself," George shrugged, ruffling her hair in a familiar, affectionate move. Then they were bouncing off towards the entrance hall like a pair of overexcited rabbits.
"Hey, Winona?" Ron ventured once they rest of them were left to their silence.
"Hm?" she hummed in vague acknowledgement, very much focused on the roast pork and apple sauce in front of her.
"The first Hogsmeade trip is coming up, and third years can go, right?" he asked, and she cocked an eyebrow.
"Why, Ronald Weasley," she said in a breathy voice, fluttering her eyelashes playfully, "are you asking me on a date?"
Ron's eyes went comically wide and he flushed red from the tips of his ears to the collar of his shirt. "No!" he hissed, whirling around to make sure nobody had overheard. Katie, who was still sitting opposite Winona and had heard every word, grinned teasingly, and Ron went a shade or two darker. "I was just going to ask you to get me a some Chocolate Frogs if you stop by Honeydukes..." he muttered, looking like he deeply regretted ever bringing it up at all.
Winona laughed and had opened her mouth to take pity and agree, when a rude, nasal voice spoke up from behind her. "Having a last meal, Potter?" the voice asked sharply. Bewildered by the animosity in the words, Winona turned to eye the person it belonged to. A short boy stood flanked by two massive boys who were probably more troll than wizard. "When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" he continued through a sneer, his platinum hair glistening in the lights overhead.
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly, and Winona was surprised by the equal hostility in his voice. The oversized goblins behind the Slytherin boy cracked their knuckles in a way that was surely meant to be menacing, though Winona was sure she could have them taken care of with one well-aimed punch, not to mention a good hex.
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said the boy with his chin tilted upwards. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter?" he asked, catching sight of the blank look on Harry's face. "Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"Of course he has," interjected Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
With a final sniff, like he was far too great to be standing so close to Gryffindors, the boy turned and marched away, his two bodyguards thudding along after him. Once they were out of earshot, Harry turned to Ron, who began explaining what a wizard's duel was.
The Hall seemed to sort of fade away, but it wasn't exactly a vision she was getting – thank Merlin – but rather a feeling deep within her gut, or maybe more like a voice, silently whispering inside her head, although no words were used.
"Excuse me," another voice stepped in and Winona's stupor was broken. She turned to the boys, seeing another first year sitting opposite them, a rather haughty look on her elfin features.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" muttered Ron sourly.
The girl blatantly ignored him and instead spoke directly to Harry. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying — and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."
Winona couldn't have cared less about the points – the House cup was virtually worthless to her (it hadn't been first year, back when she didn't have an aptitude for losing points more quickly than her House could earn them back) however, she knew the girl was doing the right thing.
"And it's really none of your business," Harry told her – rather rudely.
"Good-bye," added Ron in a tone of clear dismissal.
"As much as I hate to say it, the girl with the hair is right," she said, and the pair of boys spun around to stare at her in something akin to betrayal. "Not about the points," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I just don't think you should do it."
Ron's eyes narrowed, as though she were suddenly the one challenging them. "And why not?!" he asked, chin tilted up defiantly. "You and the twins have done way more reckless stuff-"
"I just think it's a trap," Winona cut him off before he could get any more worked up. "He's a Slytherin," she reminded them with a grimace over at her least favourite table. "They have no sense of honour or integrity. He will throw you under the bus first chance he gets."
Harry seemed to be taking her words seriously, however Ron had clearly written her off before she even begun speaking. "Don't listen, Harry," the youngest Weasley brother said with a glare in her direction. "You can take Malfoy," he added encouragingly, as though Harry's ability to handle 'Malfoy' was at all in question.
Winona gave up, rolling her eyes, deciding to let them get into trouble if they weren't going to listen. Ron shoved a slice of ham into his mouth, then tugged at Harry.
"Let's go," he said with a lofty sort of nod. Harry hesitated, but in the end followed his new friend out of the Hall. The girl with the buck teeth and bushy hair from before was frowning at her meal, pushing her peas around with her fork, shoulders slumped sadly.
"Hey," Winona spoke, feeling sorry for the poor thing, who was sitting alone at the table, and had been all evening. "I'm Winona," she said, sliding to the left so she was sat directly opposite the girl, making it easier for them to talk.
She looked up, seeming surprised Winona would start a conversation with her at all. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said softly, blinking and sitting up straighter as she seemed to gain confidence. "You're a third year?" she asked curiously.
"Yup."
"Can I ask you a few questions about your course load?" she asked hopefully, and even though that sounded like Winona's own little brand of hell, she felt bad enough for the girl that she nodded again, slouching in her seat and preparing for the long haul.
Arithmancy really was great. Hogwarts didn't have an art class, and numbers came easily to her, they always had, so it was probably as good as it was going to get on that front.
It was quickly becoming her favourite class of the week. She didn't need to try as hard as she did in Potions or Transfiguration, the answers just came to her (Fred and George had suggested that was a 'Seer-thing' rather than a 'good-with-numbers-thing', but she ignored them – she liked to think she had talent in more than just art and getting the occasional glimpse into the future).
Professor Vector was strict, but without the twins or Lee in the class with her, Winona was able to fly under the radar, keeping her head down and out of trouble. The only bad thing about it was the piles upon piles of homework that she was given every week, but she managed to keep up with it by neglecting the far less enjoyable subjects' workload.
"Andrews," Professor Vector's voice was sharp, and Winona looked up from her notes to blink at the stern witch warily. "Think you can handle this equation by yourself?" she asked icily, tapping her wand against the board where a piece of chalk was independently scribbling down a lengthy sum.
Winona was sure she could handle it, but standing up in front of the entire class wasn't something she was keen to do. However, by the no-nonsense glint to Vector's beady eyes, Winona knew this wasn't a task she could turn down.
Swallowing her nerves, she stood from her uncomfortable chair and slipped through the aisle, heading for the front of the classroom where Vector was impatiently tapping her pointed leather boot against the stone floor.
Taking the hovering piece of chalk, Winona eyed the equation closely, the cogs in her mind whirring and spinning away as she fought to solve it in a timeframe that wouldn't make her look stupid. Her heart was beating wildly, she could hear people's whispers from behind her and began to convince herself that they were mocking her.
Closing her eyes, Winona used some of Trelawney's calming routines to try and relax. She rolled her neck, inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs expand with the breath, but when she opened her eyes again, she was greeted only by darkness.
Not now, she would have begged if she'd been able to speak, but as it was, she couldn't even feel her lips to try and move them, and was stuck wincing against the onslaught of sound and light.
Snarls reverberated in her ears, so loud they could only be from something huge. There was a smell on the air, something stale and poignant that would have made her retch had she been able to locate her stomach. Screams of children, hurried words and terrified shouts, before it all trailed off with the soft, relaxing plucking of a harp. It was a room made of stone, it was part of the castle, she was sure of it!
Coming back was a shock. She blinked open her eyes and quickly inhaled a lungful of blissfully uncontaminated air. Her right arm was aching and she realised it was raised, her fingers covered in a fine dusting of white chalk.
Then she became aware of the sniggers and harsh whispers from behind her. Realisation trickled through her like ice water, and she closed her eyes once again, praying to any deity that might deign to listen that she was just about to wake up and this would all have been just a frighteningly detailed nightmare.
But the whispers and laughter didn't stop and so she turned cautiously to the left, where she could see Professor Vector staring at her through narrowed eyes. "Think this is amusing, do you?" the teacher asked sourly. Winona's insides burned, like acid was corroding her stomach.
There was a bang from across the room as the doors flew open to reveal a panting Ravenclaw student in her year with an expressionless Dumbledore in his wake, his purple robes dragging along after him.
The Headmaster eyed the scene before him critically, and Winona finally dropped her right arm, realising it was still held up to the chalkboard. The whispers, which she now knew for a fact were about her, came to a stop. Dumbledore had the power to control a room without saying so much as a single word.
"Class is dismissed," he said in his usual airy, unbothered voice, though his electric blue eyes were focused in on Winona with all the power of a laser beam, making her mouth dry with anxiety. People were slow to gather their things, still grouped together and staring at Winona intently. She knew word of her 'episode' will have spread through the entire school by the time dinner rolled around – there was no escaping it.
Dumbledore was the picture of patience, standing still and politely nodding at the students as they reluctantly shuffled from the classroom. Once the final kid had left, the Headmaster shut the doors with a casual wave of his hand, heading towards Winona and her scowling Arithmancy professor.
"Are you all right, Miss Andrews?" he asked quietly, assessing her with narrowed sapphire eyes.
"Yes, sir," she answered him thickly, and though he didn't look entirely convinced, he still nodded, turning to her latest piece of involuntary artwork.
Realising that she herself had yet to see it, she turned, wincing as she caught sight of a large, terrifying, three-headed dog sketched hastily in the hazy white of the broken stick of chalk.
"What is the meaning of this, Albus?" Professor Vector asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. Winona knew she wasn't referring to the dog, but rather her student's apparent mental breakdown in the middle of her class.
"This is not an answer easily explained, Septima," Dumbledore told her calmly. Winona felt a flare of panic. Could Professor Vector be trusted? Did Dumbledore think it important enough that she knew the real truth? "I'll be with you in a moment," he promised the teacher, who scowled unhappily but didn't argue. Instead the Headmaster turned to Winona, placing a large, aged hand on her shoulder and gently pressing, herding her to the other end of the room. "What else did you see?" he asked softly, so the Arithmancy professor couldn't overhear.
"Nothing, like usual," she answered him just as quietly. "Flashes, voices, screams – music. None of it made any sense."
"So you know nothing of what this means?"
Winona took a moment to steady herself before replying. "I know there's a giant three-headed dog hidden somewhere in this castle," she admitted. Dumbledore's expression turned severe.
"You mustn't tell anybody," he said imploringly, though the instruction was nothing new. "And you mustn't go looking for it, Winona." This, of course, was confirmation that he already knew all about it. How curious.
"I won't," she promised immediately. "The last thing I want to do is come face to face with that thing," she added with a grimace.
She decided then and there not to tell the twins. She loathed keeping things from them, but the last thing she was going to do was reveal a three-headed dog was locked up somewhere in the castle. If they found out, no amount of pleading would convince them not to go looking for it.
"But Professor," she said suddenly, another horrible thought gripping her. "Everyone in class saw me. They'll all know what I can do."
"I highly doubt a group of thirteen year-olds are going to put together that you're a Seer from this incident alone," he assured her calmly. "At most, they'll think you either rebellious or insane. I'll let you decide which option to run with," he added, utterly nonchalant – although there was the slightest hint of a smile flickering at his the corners of his lips. "Are you all right to get to lunch alone? I'd like a word with Professor Vector."
She wanted to ask what exactly he'd be telling her, but she was too rattled to speak up, so she just nodded her head. "I'll be fine, sir," she told him, and he nodded, gesturing for her to move and collect her things.
She gathered her textbook and shoved her quill back into her bag before climbing to her feet and heading for the door.
"Sorry, Professor," she apologised as she passed, unable to make herself meet the old witch's eyes. She was embarrassed – she could only imagine how silly she'd looked, standing up to complete a simple sum only to begin sketching a three-headed dog on the blackboard, completely deaf to her teacher's calls.
She dreaded to think of the rumours that would be circulating around the school by dinnertime.
For this period, Fred had Divination with Trelawney and George was on the other side of the school in Muggle Studies – it was the only period the trio didn't take together, and while Winona was usually glad for the small break, she suddenly felt she needed those two ginger misfits more than ever before.
It would be at least another hour until the bell rang and they could all go to lunch, so instead of waiting she made her way up to Gryffindor Tower, giving the password ("Lumos Solem") to the Fat Lady in a mumble and tracking her way up to her dorm for a nap. She always slept better during the day than at night.
She managed a half hour of quality sleep before she woke up, her stomach growling for food. Knowing she still had time before lunch would be served, she dug out her sketchbook and set to work on one of her old sketches, trying not to think about the mortifying Arithmancy lesson and what exactly Dumbledore had told the stern teacher about her mysterious episode.
Finally lunch rolled around and she reluctantly forced herself out of the tower and down to the Great Hall. Nobody she passed on the way down seemed to take note of her at all, and she foolishly began to hope the whole thing had blown over with supernatural speed.
And then she stepped into the Great Hall.
Whispers filled the large room, the sound travelling in the massive space and curved arches. Winona retreated further into her robes, letting the dark fabric swarm around her as though it could protect her from the stares. Eyes focused firmly on the ground in front of her, she shuffled towards her usual spot, glad to see the rest of their group had yet to arrive, all except for the only two people in the whole castle that she actually wanted to see.
"There you are!" George exclaimed from the opposite side of the table, keeping his voice low and waving her over. She slid into the space beside Fred, keeping close enough to his side that she could feel his warmth through their robes. The familiar feeling of him beside her was grounding, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.
"Is it true?" Fred asked, staring at her with wide eyes, his plate empty of food.
"That Quirrell shagged Snape behind the greenhouses during first period?" she countered as brightly as she could, ignoring the way a group of fourth years were staring at her blatantly from further down the table.
"We'll revisit that later," Fred said quickly, and she grumbled unintelligibly at the fact that they actually wanted to stay on topic for once.
"You had a vision during class?" George said the word as though it were dirty, lowering his voice to a whisper. Part of her wanted to be annoyed – it made her feel like a leper or something – but at the same time she knew he was just protecting her, and she was grateful for it.
"News travels that fast, eh?" she murmured, pulling a few slices of grilled cheese onto her plate. The twins were silent, staring at her expectantly, and she knew she couldn't get away with not talking about it. "Yeah, I did," she answered him with a huff, pouring herself some water. "Got up to do a sum on the board, next thing I know it's dark as night, something huge is snarling in my ear and all I can smell is wet dog."
The twins said nothing, eyeing one another closely as they spoke without words.
"Go on, then," she prompted them as a group of Hufflepuff first-years stopped beside them, whispering rather obviously as they pointed. She turned and gave a deadly enough glare that they quickly scattered, rushing away to their own table. "What're the rumours?"
"One of the muggleborns from Ravenclaw was saying something about schizo-something," Fred revealed, frowning as he tried to recall.
"Schizophrenia," she nodded, knowing it was probably going to be the least offensive theory she'd hear. "It's a mental illness," she explained with a huff, taking a bite of her lunch and following it with some water. "They're calling me crazy," she simplified it further when both twins only looked more confused.
"We heard another one that someone dosed you with too much love potion," George admitted with a shrug. "Made you think you were in love with a dog, and things just spiralled from there."
Winona couldn't help but snort in amusement. "That's not so bad," she said, glancing over her shoulder again and watching, equal parts irritated and smug, as everyone in sight abruptly glanced away like it wasn't completely obvious they'd been staring. "Spread that one round," she told the twins who were still eyeing her carefully, as though watching to see if she were about to explode. "There has to be some kind of explanation that isn't the truth," she said with a shrug, taking another bite of grilled cheese and talking around it. "Might as well be one that makes me laugh."
The twins were still watching her closely.
"What?" she snapped, irritated by their cautious expressions.
"Just not sure why you aren't panicking," Fred answered honestly.
Winona sighed, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. "It sucks that I had to have a vision in front of everyone like that," she told them quietly, "but what's done is done. No use crying over spilled pumpkin juice."
The twins exchanged another of their long, silent looks, then as one broke into massive grins, Fred tossing his arm over her shoulders and tucking her into his side.
"I can't believe you fell in love with a dog over me!" he exclaimed dramatically. "I'm obviously the better choice!"
"Yeah, next time, think it through!" George added just as passionately.
The whispers in the hall kicked up a notch but Winona couldn't help but laugh. It was at that moment that Lee and the girls arrived, all coming back from a brief stop at the library, judging by the bulky bag at Angelina's side.
"You drew a three-headed dog on the board in the middle of Professor Vector's lesson?" Alicia demanded, giving Winona a nudge as she dropped down into the spot beside her friend, already pulling sandwiches onto her plate. "What were you thinking?"
Thankfully Winona was saved from answering as the twins began loudly telling them the cover story, using exaggerated movements and loud, carrying voices. Winona relaxed, playing into the whole thing and nodding along, pleading insanity and munching on her lunch while the twins successfully distracted the others.
The buzz following Winona's apparent 'psychotic break' passed relatively quickly. People no longer whispered as she passed in the hallway. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Harry, who was still talked about almost nonstop, as it was since his arrival. She felt bad for the kid; she could tell he hated the attention as much, if not more, than she did.
He had bonded with Ron right off that bat; the pair were all but joined at the hip, reminding her of herself and the twins back in their first year.
She was surprised when the pair of them approached her about a week after the whole vision-in-Arithmancy debacle. She was sitting in the common room, it was getting late but it was a Saturday night, so a lot of the older kids were letting loose in honour of the weekend.
The twins were in the centre of the room, taking bets (in the currency of sweets) on who could do the longest handstand, a ring of students around them, cheering for their chosen competitor. Angelina was laughing with Lee and Katie by the fire. Winona was sitting by herself, sketching and enjoying not having to talk to anyone, when Harry and Ron approached her, cautious looks on their chubby little faces.
"Winona?" Ron began, Harry having quite blatantly nudged him to go first.
"Hm?" she asked, distractedly glancing up from her sketch of the outside of Gringotts, to which she was adding meticulous shading with a grey pencil.
"Can we talk?"
Bemused by the seriousness of their delivery, she just nodded, reluctantly setting aside her work to turn her attention to them. "What's up?" she asked, fingers itching to keep sketching, but she didn't want to be rude.
"We had a question...about the three-headed dog you drew in class last week," Harry finally said, his words careful, like he wasn't sure how she'd take it.
Exasperated, she begrudgingly began feeding them the same story she'd told over a thousand times in the last week of her life. "I don't remember doing it, must have been drugged with a love potion or something, at least that's what Dumbledore said-"
"We know about the three-headed dog on the third floor," Ron blurted before she could continue. She froze, staring between the pair of boys in surprise. Their expressions were serious and imploring; clearly they weren't taking the mickey.
"Sorry?" she asked slowly, making sure she hadn't misheard.
"The three-headed dog," Harry repeated quietly. "We've seen it."
So it definitely was real, then; that was something, she supposed. Eyes narrowed, she considered how to continue. "You must have seen it too, though," Ron continued before she could decide on what to say. "Otherwise, how would you have known to draw it?"
She didn't want to lie, but she sure as hell couldn't tell the truth. This left her with a tiny, tiny little grey area that seemed inconveniently difficult to navigate.
"Why're you coming to me with this?" she asked, sidestepping a direct answer and instead keeping things away from her impossible knowledge.
"We know it's guarding something," Harry said, barrelling forwards, clearly with little intention of slowing. "It's standing on a trap door, Hermione said so, and we think we know what it's protecting – well, not exactly what, but we know where it came from."
At the sudden influx of information, Winona could do no more than blink. "Um, okay," she said slowly, trying to keep up. "And you're telling me this why?"
"Well, we thought you must know something too, because you drew the dog," Harry explained. "Besides, Ron said you're really nice and that we can trust you."
Ron flushed scarlet, elbowing Harry with an embarrassed scowl. "Aww," Winona cooed, unable to help herself. "Does wittle-Wonnie fwink I'm nice?" she asked in a baby voice that only made Ron go a darker colour.
"Apparently I forgot how annoying you can be, though," the redhead added in a mortified grumble. Winona beamed and even Harry was laughing, much to Ron's displeasure.
"What're you giggling about over there?!" the twins shouted from where they sat with Lee and the others, their gambling ring broken up for the evening.
"The time you tried on your mum's lipstick and tried to make everyone call you Winifred and Georgina!" she shouted back, causing the common room to burst into uproarious laughter. The twins snickered at the memory, forgetting about the trio in the corner and launching into the tale with the others.
Distracted but knowing the conversation wasn't over, Winona turned back to the boys. "Look, what I know about Fluffy is very minimal," she told them offhandedly. "I don't even-"
"Fluffy?" Harry interrupted her.
What?
"What?" she voiced her thoughts.
"You said 'Fluffy'," Ron reminded her.
"No I didn't," she argued, beyond confused. Were they even paying attention? "Why would I say that? What does that even mean?"
"I dunno, you're the one who said it!"
"Look, I really don't know anything other than the fact that it's here. Promise," she swore, but they didn't look convinced. "Believe me, if there was anything else, I'd tell you. Do I look like the type of person who keeps things like this to themselves?"
They exchanged a frown.
"If I see anything else, I'll tell you," she promised them again, keeping to herself exactly how it was she would be seeing these things. "But I'm sure Dumbledore has it all under control."
"Yeah," they murmured back, unconvinced.
"I'll see you later," she told them as Katie began shouting for her to join them. The pair f first-years nodded back, and she threw them a final, weary smile before shoving her things into her bag and hurrying to her friends' side.
The first Hogsmeade visit dawned a month into term, and Winona was incredibly excited. The twins had been a bunch of times, of course, thanks to the Marauder's Map and a secret tunnel leading out of the castle.
They'd asked her to go with them, and although she cared about as much (or, as little) for the rules as they did, something about sneaking out of the school just seemed wrong, not to mention stupid. If they got caught, they would have been facing expulsion, which was just a little too harsh a punishment for her to risk.
They told her all about it, of course, and brought her back sweets and butterbeer, but it wasn't quite the same as seeing it herself.
So the morning of the visit, she woke up feeling oddly rested and distantly listened as the other girls all chattered excitedly amongst themselves. She went through her bag, making sure she had all her money and art supplies, before shoving her feet into her worn pair of shoes and making a beeline for the common room.
"Took you long enough!" Fred exclaimed when she appeared at the mouth of the stairs.
"I'm the first person here," she replied dryly, referring to the girls who were all still curling their hair and chattering amongst themselves up in the dorm.
"Come on then, Blondie," George said jovially, tossing an arm over her shoulder and beginning to yank her in the direction of the portrait hole.
"We're not waiting for the others?" she asked confusedly.
"We're coming!" Angelina's voice floated down from the staircase, and the boys both huffed as they came to stop. They were both dressed in last year's Weasley sweaters, only they'd grown quite a lot since then and they were a size too small – making them look rather absurd, now that she noticed it.
"You look kind of ridiculous," she mentioned, reaching out to pinch the stretched wool of Fred's green jumper, a golden F knitted into the material. "You should wear something that actually fits you."
"We can't help it if our muscles are just bulging out of our jumpers, Winnie," George said mock-indignantly, both brothers striking a pose to show off their biceps.
"This is what men look like, sweetheart," Fred added in a gravelly voice.
"First of all," she began seriously, "never call me sweetheart, ever again." The pair nodded, agreeing with this condition at the dangerous look on her face. "Secondly, you don't look like your muscles are 'bulging out of your jumpers'. You just look like you shopped in the children's section for your clothes."
"That hurts, Winona, that really hurts," George murmured in a disheartened sort of tone that only made her roll her eyes.
"Okay, now we can go!" Alicia had appeared from the dorms, dragging Angelina after her.
Both of them looked far more put together than Winona who, in great contrast to the twins, was wearing a red sweater several sizes too big, had her hair piled sloppily on top of her head, and still had a streak of purple paint on her cheek from the night before. There was a brief moment where she felt a flare of inadequacy, but she shook it off and followed the others towards the portrait hole.
"Lee went ahead with that Jackson bloke from Ravenclaw," George told the girls as they took the stairs two at a time in their eagerness to get to the wizarding village. "Something about following Melissa Beacon to try and convince her and her sister to have a butterbeer with them."
Angelina let out a snort of a laugh. "Desperate sod."
The day was cool, the air holding a sharp bite that Winona adored. She listened to her friends chattering away happily as they all made their way down towards the Wizarding village nestled between the mountains near the school.
She wasn't sure what to expect, exactly. The closest she'd ever come to being in a Wizarding village before was Diagon Alley, but that didn't really count.
The village was lovely though, and she felt excitement rise within her as they walked through it, taking in the old-style buildings and the bustling crowd, most of it students from the school, eager to explore. She needed to sketch it and knew she'd be getting little sleep that night, staying up to try and recreate it on paper.
"So, where do the ladies wish to begin?" asked Fred, catching their attention.
"Where do you two suggest?" asked Alicia curiously.
"Honeydukes, for sure!" George told them, making a sharp right and leading them in that direction.
"The sweet shop?" Angelina murmured, casting Winona a sly look. "Someone had better keep Winnie on a tight leash."
Ignoring the comment, Winona stepped inside the bustling shop and suddenly found herself having to clamp her jaw shut, lest she gape like an idiot.
Every wizarding sweet she'd ever heard of was stacked upon the shelves, every colour of the rainbow seeming to burst from every wall. The whole shop smelled delightful, the sweet scents making her mouth water.
Alicia and Angelina slipped into the crowd, the shop so packed with students that they disappeared instantly. George followed after them, calling out something about not bothering to try the cockroach clusters lined along the far wall.
"See that fudge station over there?" said a voice in her ear, and she looked over her shoulder to see Fred grinning widely as he pointed to a small kiosk in the corner. "They hand out free samples," he told her with a mischievous glint to his eye.
With a small squeak of excitement Winona grasped hold of his wrist and yanked him through the thickening crowd. The kiosk was run by an elderly witch, who smiled kindly at the sight of them. "Would you care to try some?" she asked airily.
Winona scanned the options before one caught her eye. "Can we try the salted caramel, please?"
The witch's hands disappeared below the counter, reappearing with two little squares of fudge. She and Fred took them immediately, popping them in their mouths and chewing.
They tried three other flavours before wandering away. Winona bought an array of sugar quills, making sure she had enough to last her until Christmas, then they met up with the others and wandered back out onto the street, heading for a pub the twins said was good called the Three Broomsticks.
They day passed in a haze of butterbeer and laughter, and Winona thought idly that it didn't really get any better than this. She just wished it could last forever.
Two months into term was when the usual monotony of life finally broke. It was Halloween, which wasn't really that big of a deal in the Wizarding world, but it was an excuse to eat lots of sweets, not to mention the House Elves' wonderful pumpkin pie.
Although the whispers had long since stopped, the school didn't seem to want to completely let go of her 'episode' the month before. The Slytherins in particular kept smugly calling her 'Woolly Winona' as though it were the cleverest taunt thought up in the history of Hogwarts.
She heard from Harry and Ron that it had been Draco Malfoy to coin the phrase, and a few days later he walked into the Great Hall with bright pink hair, much to the Winona's delight. The twins had gotten large, theatrical kisses on the cheek for that one.
She could handle a little animosity from the students. It was, after all, nothing new. But it still sucked, that much she couldn't deny. People whispered as they walked by, eyeing her warily. Even a whole month and a half later, she was just sitting in the courtyard, minding her own business when a pair of older Slytherins walked by, coughing out 'raving lunatic' as they passed, as though they were so clever.
Shoving her middle finger in their direction, they snorted and scurried away, unbothered by her glower.
"What're you sulking around for?" the twins appeared by her side, having snuck up on her – they had an uncanny ability to prowl around silently, they liked to say it was all part of the 'pranking-process', but Winona thought they just had soft shoes.
"I'm not sulking," she said defensively, not bothering to look up from her work. She was sketching the Whomping Willow with a black pen, just something to keep herself busy while she attempted to ignore the looks being thrown her way. "I'm moping. They're two totally different things."
"Alright then, Smartypants," George murmured, and though she wasn't looking at him, she knew he'd rolled his eyes. "Why're you moping?"
The twins weren't particularly touchy-feely (neither was she, really, so this wasn't an issue) but she always knew she could be a hundred-percent upfront with them without fear of ridicule or judgement. They were honest with one another, they always had been, even when it came down to silly little things like moping about being called crazy.
"Just sick of people calling me 'insane' behind my back, I guess," she muttered.
"Would you rather they said it to your face?" asked Fred in confusion.
"Yeah, actually, I would," she told them, and Fred wondered why he was surprised by the answer. "I can handle things being said to my face, but behind my back?" Winona scowled. "It's far worse."
She hated dishonesty. It was ironic, then, that given her ability it sometimes seemed like the only way to survive was to be lie to the people she loved – or at the very least omit the truth.
Winona lifted her shoulders in a shrug, glancing up at the sky. It was getting close to lunch and the sky was overcast but light enough that it was pleasant, just begging her to stay out and soak up the chance to sit outside without having to rug up against the cold. Still, her stomach ached for food, so she reluctantly stood up.
"I'm all good, just being a girl about it, I guess," she said dismissively. "Coming to lunch?" she asked, lifting the strap of her heavy bag onto her shoulder, then glancing down at her paint-stained hands, scratching at the flaky smears on her skin, but eventually giving up on trying to get it all off.
"Yeah, we've gotta make a stop first, though," Fred said. She looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Do I want to know? Or should I maintain plausible deniability?"
"We'll see you later," George promised rather than answer, and she figured that was telling enough as it was.
"Don't get detention tomorrow night," she instructed them seriously, calling it over her shoulder as she headed for the entrance back into the castle. "I need someone to stuff myself on sweets with!"
Lunch was delicious, though she skipped the healthier options to gorge herself on pumpkin pie. Angelina was there to sit with her, though her attention was half on the Herbology book cracked open in front of her. Alicia arrived halfway through and she was much better company, the pair making a competition out of who could make the best napkin-swan – which was quite funny, because neither knew a thing about origami.
They were just leaving the Great Hall, making reluctant plans to wander up to the common room and get started on their Charms essay, when the twins came roaring around the corner, coming to a panting stop in front of them and holding their hands over their hearts as they recovered from their sprint.
"Did you try to give Snape a wedgie again?" Winona asked them warily.
"Better!" Fred insisted.
"Well, not better, but close to it," George amended quickly, and Fred nodded in agreement.
"Come on," Fred said, reaching out to grasp Winona's wrist while George threw an arm around Alicia's shoulders. They both began to lead them towards the stairs leading to the lower levels of the castle, presumably on to the kitchens. "Oi! Ange!" he shouted over his shoulder, and Angelina looked up sharply from where she'd been talking with a first year. "Come on!" he called, and she looked like she was considering ignoring him, but probably decided it wasn't worth the backlash and bid the younger student goodbye, following the others down the stairs.
"What's going on?" Ange asked, both her and Alicia uncomfortable being in this part of the school for any reason other than Potions class. They had a point, it was the most likely place a Slytherin would attack, being their territory and all.
"We have a surprise," the twins told them giddily.
All three girls exchanged looks of caution. "Last time you tried to surprise us, it ended up being a bathtub full of cockroaches," Alicia reminded them flatly.
"It was meant to be funny," Fred said defensively, but quickly gave up when he was met with nothing but glares from the girls. "Anyway, this is loads better than that."
"If I see a single bug, heads are getting slapped," Winona warned them, and the twins quickly raised their hands in surrender.
"Just trust us?"
Sighing, Winona knew she couldn't deny them that. "All right," she muttered with a crinkled nose, but the twins would take what they could get.
They finally made it to the kitchens, though Alicia and Ange only looked confused as they came to a stop in front of the painting of fruit, neither having been to the kitchens before. "Winona, would you do the honours?" George asked, dipping into a low bow.
Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, she stepped forwards to tickle the pear, watching as it giggled then turned into a doorknob, allowing them entry.
"How the hell did you guys find this place?" Alicia asked with a gasp when they led them into the room, which was bustling with dozens of excitable little elves.
"Oh, you know us, always exploring," said Fred dismissively, and the girls seemed to buy it.
"Hello Misters Wheezy," a familiar little elf appeared in front of them, large golfball eyes watery with elation at the mere chance for conversation. "Are youse ready now?"
"We are," George confirmed, clapping his hands then rubbing them together like a man about to eat a feast.
"This ways!" the elf chirped, and the others followed warily. Angelina and Alicia were staring at the massive kitchens in shock, still acclimating to the hundreds of giddy, hardworking elves and the enormous room holding all manner of cooking equipment, not to mention the identical House tables placed throughout the room.
Winona finally put all the pieces together when they came to a stop at the replica of the Gryffindor table where Lee was already sitting, surrounded by about a dozen pumpkins in a range of different sizes and a generous selection of carving materials.
"You're kidding!" she gasped, turning to stare at the twins. They were beaming proudly, an eager glint to their near-identical eyes. They knew how much she loved to carve pumpkins – how it was one of the first ways she'd ever learned to express herself creatively, and that she'd held a soft spot for it ever since.
"Come on then, Andrews," Fred said with a grin. "Let's carve us some pumpkins."
The only other person who'd ever carved a pumpkin before was Alicia, who laughed as the others held their carving knives in weak, cautious grips. "You've never been cautious about anything in your lives," Winona reminded the twins with a laugh, already working on enthusiastically scooping out the insides of her pumpkin with a large spoon. "Don't pussyfoot about."
They laughed and eventually fell into it, each trying to be the first to empty their pumpkins of their insides, then starting a mini food fight with the mushy vegetable guts. Winona laughed but stayed out of the line of fire near Angelina and Lee, who were in the process of drawing clumsy faces onto the sides of their pumpkins.
"Draw my face for me?" Fred begged her from across the table, but she was already shaking her head.
"You've gotta do it yourself," she insisted, tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrated on marking out the eyes of her creation.
"You can just draw it, then I'll carve it out!" he promised hopefully.
"Nope," she said, pausing her work just to grin at him cheekily. "You're on your own."
He grumbled unhappily but continued without complaint. Winona smiled in satisfaction. "So you do this often?" Lee spoke up a few minutes later, and she looked up with a smirk.
"That some kind of cheesy pickup line?" she asked wryly. Lee scoffed.
"You wish," he said, chucking a small handful of pumpkin guts in her direction that she ducked with ease, the others laughing as it flew over her head and into the roaring fire behind her. "My family never does anything for Halloween," he added, speaking loud enough for the whole group to hear, "but my mum's weirdly enthusiastic about Easter. When I was little, we'd have a massive Easter egg hunt every year. I'm talking hundreds of eggs."
"Lee," said Angelina flatly, "you're an only child."
"My cousins all came over, so it wasn't just me and a million chocolate eggs," he scoffed again. The twins snorted at the image he painted.
"My family's big on Christmas," Alicia said, brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully carved the mouth of her face. "We do a secret Santa, but we always compete for the most ridiculous gift, then all try to guess who it was from."
"What's a secret Santa?" George asked, looking up from his work in confusion.
"You write down the names of everyone in the family, then put them in a hat and take turns drawing one out. You keep it a secret, pick a gift and give it to them at Christmas," Alicia explained patiently.
The twins look intrigued. "So nobody knows who's getting one another a gift?" Fred tried to understand. Alicia nodded in confirmation.
"Does that mean everyone only gets something from one person a year?" George asked skeptically.
"Everyone gets everyone something, of course, but the secret Santa is always the main event."
"That sounds kind of fun," Lee said cheerfully.
"It is," Alicia smiled widely at the thought of her own tradition. "What about you two?" she asked the twins, who by now might as well have had orange skin with how much pumpkin guts were covering them. Everything they did was messy, Winona didn't know why she thought carving pumpkins might be an exception. "Any holiday traditions your family has?"
"Every Christmas, our mum knits us all a jumper," George said merrily. Everybody knew this already, having seen the twins in their jumpers during the first few months of every new year, but they nodded anyway.
"Must be a lot of work," Angelina murmured thoughtfully. "You have a huge family," she added, as though it might have somehow gone unnoticed.
"She knits ones for the people she 'adopts' into the family, too," Fred told them with a huff of a laugh. "That's why this little pixie gets one every year," he said, flicking his knife at Winona, sending a small mass of orange mush her way. It landed on her arm, and though she wanted to retaliate, she was more focused on her task. She sent him her most exasperated expression and then continued to work on her masterpiece.
"What about you, Ange?" she asked the only one of them to not speak up, looking over to see her struggling to saw through her pumpkin's skin.
"For my birthday every year mum gives me a family heirloom – usually jewellery," she shrugged.
"Is that where you got that necklace from?" Alicia asked, pointing to the chain of the diamond necklace they knew hung from her neck, currently tucked safely into her jumper.
Angelina nodded, smiling faintly at the thought of her yearly tradition.
"I got this ring from my mum for Christmas last year," Alicia added happily, holding out a hand where a simple gold ring sat glittering on her index finger. At this point, the twins and Lee had broken off into their own conversation, bored by the girls' talk of shiny things. "It was my great-grandma's." Angelina 'oohed' over the jewellery, and Winona gave it a cursory glance before returning her attention to her pumpkin, which was close to being finished.
"What about you, Winnie?" Angelina asked conversationally. She hummed distractedly, barely glancing up from her task. "What family jewellery do you have?"
"Oh, none," she responded distantly, trying to get the triangular nose just right.
"None?" Alicia sounded surprised. "Not even anything of your mum's?"
The boys went quiet, all turning to look at Winona carefully, as though expecting her to burst into tears at the mention of her late mother. Angelina slapped Alicia in the arm crisply, reprimanding her for bringing it up. Winona just barely refrained from rolling her eyes, instead keeping her gaze on her work.
"Nah, I don't have anything from either of my parents," she said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug, like it didn't matter. Like it she hadn't spent so many hours as a kid staring at her own face in the mirror and wondering whether she got the slope of her nose from her mum, or the stormy grey of her eyes from her dad.
"Nothing?" asked Alicia, sounding very close to pitying. Winona kept working as she shook her head. "You never talk about them," she continued in a delicate voice. "We don't even know their names."
Winona knew she was just curious – concerned, even. She couldn't blame Alicia for wanting to know more. Winona was tight-lipped about her personal life; she'd always been that way. Not everyone needed to know everything about her, even if they felt like they were entitled to it. That was how she saw things, at least.
Keeping her eyes focused intently on her task, Winona replied, her voice carefully detached. "Jessica and Orion Andrews – at least, as far as I know."
"As far as you know?" pressed Alicia, ignoring the glares the others were sending her way, trying to tell her to shut up.
"Don't know much about them," Winona admitted, shrugging indifferently.
The others were tellingly silent, and frustrated, she finally looked up from her task to scowl at them.
"I'm not an emotional bomb. Quit staring at me like I'm about to explode," she said sternly, and the girls let out a breath of relief. Alicia looked close to saying sorry, but Winona sent her a sharp glance, silently telling her not to, and she nodded with a faintly apologetic smile. "What I really want to know," she said, rather than continue the same vein of conversation, shooting a mischievous look at Lee, "is how long it takes this tool to eat over a hundred chocolate eggs."
The twins let out loud guffaws, and Lee rolled his eyes as he hurried to launch into a soliloquy about his ability to store fat like the camels in the Sahara.
"I've never done this before," Angelina said conversationally as the twins once more got caught up in their own banter. "It's awfully American of us."
"The twins know how to cheer me up," Winona said fondly.
"Where'd you learn to do it?" asked Alicia curiously.
"My Muggle primary school," Winona told them. "They'd have a station set up every year. I think it was just a gimmicky way keep the kids entertained, but I always loved it. I won a ribbon every year for most creative display," she added proudly.
Alicia smiled warmly, only to grimace in disgust as she accidentally dipped her hand into her pile of discarded pumpkin guts. Wiping her hand on one of the towels left by the Elves, she cast as glance over at the twins, who were now competing to see who could do the best job with their eyes shut.
"I didn't realise the twins could be so sweet," Alicia admitted, a little chagrined at herself.
Winona smirked. "You should know by now; they're full of surprises."
Twenty minutes later everyone was proclaiming they'd finished their works of art and, as one, they all spun their pumpkins around so the others could see them. Laughter filled the kitchens, making the elves edge away from them cautiously as they continued their hard work for the upcoming Halloween feast.
The twins' were the worst, really just consisting of chunky holes in random places. Lee's was surprisingly good, with large, hollow eyes and a wide mouth. Alicia and Angelina's were clumsy but thought out, with mouths spreading across nearly half of the pumpkin. Winona's was by far the best, her experience and talent for art giving her a significant advantage, with a crooked mouth of sharp teeth and angular eyes.
"There's one final step," Fred reminded them, pulling out his wand and muttering a familiar charm. Small fires ignited inside each of the hollowed out vegetables, lighting up the faces in a wicked, flickering vision.
Everybody erupted into applause, and the twins gave deep, dramatic bows.
"Let's take these up to the common room," Lee suggested, already gathering his in his arms. "I'd hate for them to go unappreciated."
"Too right, Jordan," George agreed, picking up his own and nodding for the girls to do the same. Alicia and Ange began to chatter about making carving pumpkins at Halloween a tradition, and George and Lee caught up with them, nodding eagerly in agreement.
Winona picked up her pumpkin, glancing down into the magical flame within before putting the top back on and heading for the door. Fred kept pace with her, his own rather large pumpkin held in his gangly arms. "This was fun," he told her conversationally, a grin on his face. "I didn't know scooping the guts out of a massive vegetable could be so enjoyable."
"Thanks, Fred," she told him sincerely, glancing up at him, head tilted back to meet his eyes.
"For what? We heard this was fun, thought we'd give it a try," he replied, playing aloof, although she caught a hint of a telling smile curving at his pale lips. "We didn't do it for you, or anything," he added nonchalantly, but she saw through him like he were spun from glass.
"Right," she agreed, looking away to hide her grin. She nudged him in the side with her shoulder. "Thanks anyway, Carrot Top," she said slyly, and he made a mock-affronted sound before his expression cleared into one of satisfaction.
"Any time, Blondie," he muttered, and she smiled widely as they climbed the stairs back up to Gryffindor Tower, finding she felt a whole lot less rubbish than she had before.
Halloween dawned and the moment Winona woke up, she was hit with a vision. She'd fallen asleep with her sketchbook beside her, and when she came to she was holding it in her hand, a picture of one of the first year Gryffindors sitting alone in a toilet stall, crying sadly into her hands, her bushy hair hovering around her head like a halo.
She couldn't remember the girl's name – even though she knew they'd met recently – and she wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but she did get the sense that it was only just about to happen; she could tell by the urgent buzzing beneath her skin, like she was meant to do something, but she didn't know what.
Classes went by slowly that day. She yawned her way through most of History of Magic, trying to get a nap in, but the Slytherins were in a shitty mood and kept charming scrunched up bits of parchment to smack her in the head. The twins retaliated with some weak hexes, and thankfully Binns was so involved in his lecture on the Witch Hunts of the fourteenth century that he didn't even notice, and everyone got away scot-free.
"Who do you think would win in a fight between Dumbledore and McGonagall?" Fred questioned, sounding thoughtful as they made their way down from Gryffindor Tower, where they'd just dropped off their bags. The Halloween feast was about to begin, and Winona could swear she could smell the sugary confectionaries and pumpkin pies from all the way up in the Tower.
"Dumbledore, for sure," she said with a nod.
"He's known as the greatest wizard alive for a reason," George said, scratching at his head and pausing to let a group of fifth years pass without banging into him.
"But," Fred said quickly, holding up a hand to stop their train of thought, "what about without wands?"
"Ooh," George sang, intrigued.
"Definitely McGonagall, then," Winona answered with conviction.
"Are you saying that as a Seer, or as a feminist?" Fred asked.
"Why can't it be both?" she countered, and he snorted. "All right, fine," she muttered. "But just look at them. Dumbledore might be powerful, but physically, he looks like a strong gust of wind could topple him over."
"And McGonagall looks stronger?"
"I just get the sense that she could really smack a bitch down. You know what I mean?"
"No, Winnie, I really don't know what you mean."
"Guys!" a familiar voice cut through their focused bickering and the trio turned to see Angelina rushing towards them. "Finally," she huffed when she reached them, pressing a hand to the stitch in her side. "Been looking all over for you. Wood wants to speak to us about next practise."
"Again?" George groaned. "We only spoke to him yesterday. I swear, if he grows any more obsessed, he'll have to be committed to St Mungo's mentally ill wing."
"Come on," Angelina rolled her eyes, shoving at their shoulders to urge them along. Winona followed, smirking as they stepped into the Hall, then practically melting with glee as she sat down at the table, immediately loading her plate with baked potatoes and peas.
The twins and the girls were sitting to her left, making faces behind Oliver Wood's back as he ranted about the upcoming match. She laughed, covering her full mouth so food wouldn't spew from her lips.
"You know Hermione?" a first year across from her was saying, and something about the gossipy tone made Winona pull her attention from the twins. "I found her in the bathroom before," she continued, her sleek black hair pulled back into an intricate braid. "She was crying, and yelled at me to leave her alone."
"She's a bit weird, isn't she?" her friend, the one with mousy hair and large eyes, agreed, but Winona was no longer listening.
Girl crying in the bathroom, of course it was Hermione. She didn't know a whole lot about the girl, they'd only spoken maybe twice, but she'd heard Ron complain about her enough to get the gist of the problem.
"I'll be back," she told the others absently. George waved lazily in acknowledgement, too involved in his conversation to care. Winona picked up her plate and walked down the table until she reached Ron and Harry, who were both stuffing their faces with chicken.
"What did you do?" she rounded on Ron, dropping heavily into the empty space beside him. The poor kid nearly choked on his mouthful, looking over at her in alarm.
"What?" he asked bewilderedly once he'd stopped coughing. "What are you talking about?"
"Hermione. Bathroom. Crying."
Ron gave a reluctant sort of grimace. "I just, I said something, and she overheard and got all upset – it's an overreaction, really," he told her blithely. She raised her eyebrows, making him rather uneasy, like he didn't trust her not to smack him – which was probably a good call.
"What did you say?" she asked, slow and stern.
"Doesn't matter," Ron insisted. She looked to Harry who quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to snitch on his new best mate.
"Called her a nightmare," said an Irish voice across from them. Winona turned to see a pale boy with sauce smeared on his lips. "Said it was her own fault no one could stand her," he finished cheekily. Ron shot him a glare of pure betrayal.
"For Merlin's sake, Ron," she hissed. The kid went red, biting into another chicken wing with force.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" he said defensively around his mouthful. "She's a bloody know-it-all."
"First of all: watch your fucking language," she told him sharply, and Harry laughed so sharply he spat out his mouthful of pumpkin juice. "Secondly, you're an idiot."
"Leave me alone, Winona," Ron groaned, clearly deciding she wasn't worth putting up with.
"So help me Merlin, you will listen to me, Weasley," she warned him darkly. Ron went red again, but finally stopped eating and turned to look at her, probably deciding it wasn't worth the smack he'd receive if he snubbed her. "Hermione's a muggle-born, yeah?" she began. He didn't answer, but she hadn't been expecting him to. "Do you think maybe she was so incredibly nervous to come into a world she knows nothing about that she read up on everything she could, to try and help herself fit in?"
Ron grumbled unintelligibly.
"And did you think that maybe that all she wants are some friends, but nobody will give her the time of day? She's coping the only way she knows how, Ron. Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same thing."
"You didn't," Ron muttered sourly, reminding her that she too had grown up almost entirely Muggle. And yet she hadn't pulled a Hermione and memorised all their textbooks by heart.
"I could have easily become Hermione," she told him. "An outcast, snubbed by this crowd of magical strangers."
"Why didn't you?" Harry was the one to ask, uncaring that she wasn't technically talking to him.
She smiled knowingly. "I made friends," she reminded them, tossing a thumb back towards the twins, who were now taking turns using their spoons to fling peas into Percy's hair. "That's all she needs," she said quietly. Ron purposefully avoided her eyes. "So maybe stop being a stubborn arsehole and just give her a chance?" she finished. Ron flushed red again at the name-calling, but he'd stopped arguing.
"No need to curse," he muttered, frowning down at his meal. Winona just laughed, nudging him and sharing a conspiratorial grin with Harry.
The room went oddly quiet before either of them could say anything more, and bewildered by the unexpected silence, Winona turned in her seat to see Professor Quirrell jogging towards the teacher's table, his turban askew and terror on his face. He slumped over Dumbledore's plate and said, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know," then promptly fainted on the spot.
There was another perfect silence. Nobody seeming to know how to react. And then the screaming began.
Children screeched at one another hysterically – which Winona really thought was all a bit overdramatic. It was in the dungeons, and the things moved like snails. Still, the thought of it getting her friends was enough to have her standing and rushing back to the girls, Lee and the twins, who were all shouting over each other in somewhat of a panic.
Reaching them, her first move was to instinctively grab onto Fred's, fingers curling around his bony shoulder. Without pause he gripped her hand in his, holding on tightly, ensuring they wouldn't get separated in the crowd.
Everything fell into utter chaos, and Winona was just wondering how they were meant to be getting back to their common room – if it would even be safe there – when several purple firecrackers exploded from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand.
Finally the Great Hall settled into a thick, tense silence, the quiet thrumming with anxiety and fear.
"Prefects," he said clearly, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
It was kind of disturbing how elated Percy looked to be given this task, standing to his feet and beginning to motion like a stewardess during the evacuation procedure on an aeroplane. "Follow me!" he shouted over the loud buzz of noise. "Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"
"Bloody hell, Perce," Fred called as they hurried up the stairs towards the Tower. "Try not to enjoy this so much, you power-hungry lunatic."
Percy didn't dignify that with a response. Nobody seemed to know what to do once they got to the relative safety of the common room, but it was clear nobody planned on heading up to bed. It was a good thing, then, that only a few minutes later food and plates began to appear on every available table surface. People shouted their glee and hurried to get more food, but talk of the troll was the only thing filling the room.
"Where d'you s'pose it came 'rom?" Lee was asking around his mouthful of pork, sloppily washing it down with some pumpkin juice.
"Dunno," George shrugged, not bothering with cutlery and just holding a sausage in his fingers. "Forbidden forest, I guess."
"But how'd it get in?" Alicia asked, looking desperately confused. "I mean, that's impossible – this place is more fortified than Fort Knox."
"Than what?" Fred asked cluelessly. He was ignored.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Angelina said flatly, making sure to swallow her mouthful of pumpkin before continuing. "Someone let it in."
"Who in Godric's name would do that?" Lee wondered.
"My money's on Snape," Fred offered eagerly. "Maybe he wanted to prove he could handle the Defence position, so he let it in to show Dumbledore."
"Or maybe he did it to try and kill Quirrell," George added brightly, thrilled by this theory. "A 'two owls, one stone' sort of a thing?"
"Snape isn't trying to kill Quirrell," Alicia laughed at the absurdity of it all, and the twins sent her matching grimaces for her lack of enthusiasm. "Come on, he's a prick, but he's not homicidal."
"Whether Snape's trying to off him or not, there's something seriously not right with the guy," Winona spoke up, cringing at the thought of the creepy professor. "It's the stutter, I just don't trust it."
"Oh, come on, Winnie," Alicia rolled her eyes. "The poor bloke can't help his speech impediment."
"He just gives me a weird vibe, is all I'm saying," she said, hands held up in surrender.
"I'm with Win," Fred said, hooking an arm over her shoulders. "The guy's just off."
"You're all terrible people," Alicia deadpanned and the twins cackled evilly, making Winona snicker. Nobody came to tell them what happened with the troll, but she figured they'd hear eventually and, comforted by the knowledge that a fully-grown mountain troll definitely couldn't fit through the portrait hole, they wandered up to bed with full stomachs and smiles on their faces.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed. I'd love to hear from you, so let me know your thoughts! xx