The absolute worst part about being a bloody Seer, was when the visions hit her when she was just simply minding her own bloody business. She was sitting in a rare patch of sunlight out on the grounds, enjoying the warmth it brought against the icy winter breeze, and then BAM!
Suddenly everything's dark and there are flashes flickering like fire all around her, coming in from every side, every angle. It was choking her, the smoke filling her lungs. She couldn't breathe. Where was she? What was that voice? The one that seemed to echo from inside her very head, making her feel sick in a stomach she couldn't locate?
Then with a start she came back to the present, sucking in the clean, crisp air, glancing down her new prediction. It was done in charcoal, but as always, she understood it clearly, seeing the colour in her mind's eye. A stone sat on the floor, glinting in firelight, and a looming shadow was cast on the floor from the light of the flames. The whole picture gave her a menacing sort of feeling, and she felt like she needed a shower before she'd even finished looking it over.
Scrambling to her feet, Winona shoved her belongings into her bag and hurried for the castle. It was still early in the morning, the frost not yet melted from the grass, and she sucked in the bitingly cold air as she walked, enjoying the way it stung her throat and lungs.
Dumbledore was in his office (she wondered whether he ever left for any reason other than a meal), and the password was still the same as last time, so she leapt up to the top and knocked on his door.
"Yes, Miss Andrews?" the Headmaster asked kindly from behind his massive desk as she settled into her usual spot, deciding she wasn't in the mood for smalltalk. The sketchbook landed in front of the older wizard and he blinked down at it, his expression the picture of innocence. "What do we have here?" he said curiously, blue eyes sliding over her blindly drawn prediction.
"You tell me, Professor," she replied, maybe just a tiny bit confrontational. What was so important about this stone? Important enough that it warranted an entire vision?
"I can't say I know anything about this particular vision," he told her, voice too even to be quite so believable. The whole encounter was dripping with deception, and for the first time she felt a flare of distrust for the Headmaster. He seemed to sense this, and the innocent guise abruptly dropped, replaced by casual interest. "Do you sense anything in particular when you focus on the vision?" he asked lightly, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "A date, or a place?"
"No," she told him honestly. He hummed as though this was a pity but of no real consequence to him, but then she reconsidered. "Well, there is one thing," she said, and Dumbledore looked up a tad sharply, silently urging her to go on. "When I first looked at it, I got overwhelmed by this feeling of…maliciousness," she chose her words carefully. "Whatever's happening in this vision – it's nothing good."
The Headmaster was quiet as he nodded, taking out his wand and going through the usual motions of replicating the sketch for his own personal collection, then handing her back her book with a polite, if not slightly airy, smile.
"I believe you're late to breakfast," he said suddenly, and her head whipped around to glance at the grandfather clock in the corner, which told her that if she didn't leave now, she'd have to make a detour to the kitchens on her way to the first Quidditch match of the season. "May I ask what you were doing outside at such an early hour?" he asked as she climbed to her feet, haphazardly stuffing her sketchbook back into her threadbare bag.
She wondered how he knew she'd been outside, but she figured there probably wasn't a lot that went on inside this castle that he wasn't aware of. That was a sobering thought in and of itself.
"I have trouble sleeping, sir," she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag so it lay diagonally across her chest. Dumbledore didn't look surprised by this either, but she figured she'd probably mentioned it before.
"Have you spoken to Madam Pomfrey about acquiring some Dreamless Sleep Potion?" he suggested politely.
"I don't like taking things for it," she shook her head, rejecting the idea, having already considered it in the past. "I don't like to medicate."
Dumbledore nodded like he completely understood, but Winona doubted he did. "Will you be going to see the match?" he continued pleasantly, and she was beginning to grow irritated by his conversational mood, stomach grumbling to be fed.
"Yes, sir," she answered him quickly.
"I suppose you never miss a match, what with most of your friends being on the team." Not sure what she was meant to say in response, Winona could only nod. "Well, I've kept you long enough," he declared with a breezy smile. "Go; get fed and watered, then enjoy the match."
"Thank you, Professor," she nodded gratefully, already backing towards the door. "You too!" she added as an afterthought, already rushing down the stone staircase, intent on meeting the others before they headed down to the Pitch.
She put the vision out of her head, focusing on the thought of the coming meal, and hurried towards the Great Hall. Everyone was still eating, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried to where she could spy two heads of flaming red hair.
"Ready to kick some Slytherin arse?" she asked in lieu of a greeting. She was met with enthusiastic if not distant cheers for her trouble. She took a seat between George and Alicia with a grin on her face, eager to put her rather disconcerting morning behind her. "Excited for your first match as an official Chaser?" she asked the taller girl, quickly piling eggs onto her plate.
Katie looked excited and ill at the same time, and Winona grinned.
"You'll do great," she continued when she received no answer, bumping her lightly in the side. She'd tried out for the team a few weeks ago like everyone else, and, to the whole group's celebration, she was appointed to be a Chaser beside Angelina and Alicia. Now every single one of her friends was on the team, bar Lee; and even he was the commentator for the matches.
"I'm not even the most nervous of us all, I can promise you that," Katie said, nodding down the table some to where a white-faced Harry sat, surrounded by the other first years, looking very much like he was going to be needing a bucket to throw up into sometime soon.
"I'll be back," Winona said, but Katie was already distracted by Lee's excited babbling about the match.
"Where're you off to?" George asked as she began to stand from the table.
"To rally the troops," she told him offhandedly, and though this likely made little sense, he nodded anyway. She picked up her plate, shuffling down the table towards the cluster of first years. "Wotcher, Harry," she said as she came to a stop in front of them, and Ron was the first to turn around, staring up at her through narrowed eyes, like he didn't trust her not to hex him for a laugh.
Harry didn't reply, instead swallowing thickly as he stared down at his empty plate, the anxiety in his eyes overwhelming.
"Scooch over," she ordered Ron who awkwardly shuffled across on the bench, leaving her a space between him and that frizzy-haired girl – Hermione, she reminded herself sternly – from his year. She took a seat, picking up a strip of bacon from the plate in the middle of the table and taking a hearty bite. "How you feeling, Boy-Wonder?" she asked the bespectacled kid lightly, pouring herself some orange juice without looking.
"I'm okay," he insisted, voice weak, and she made an unconvinced noise in the back of her throat.
"Seamus has just finished telling him how Seekers are always the ones in the most danger of injury during a game," Hermione spoke up primly, shooting the pale fellow sitting beside Harry a withering stare that was honestly just impressive for her young age. The poor kid looked away uncomfortably, and Winona smirked at his wariness.
"You'll be fine, Harry," Winona told him, elbows resting on the table. "Don't listen to bowl-cut over there. I've seen how you fly, you're a natural."
"When did you see me fly?" Harry asked curiously, momentarily distracted from his anxiety.
"Practise," she said with a grin. "I always sit under the bleachers and sketch while my mates run their drills. Makes me feel like part of the team, even though I'm not actually on the team." Harry nodded and went right back to stewing in his internalised terror. "Don't worry about a thing, Harry. The twins'll be watching your back. Trust me, nothing gets past those two walking hurricanes. You couldn't be safer."
Harry still didn't look convinced, but he seemed to appreciate her attempts at easing his fears.
"Eat something," she ordered him, picking up the tray of bacon and waving it under his nose. "Don't want our new star player having a dizzy spell and falling off his broom," she teased. Harry grasped his stomach, which she had no doubt was turning in on itself with nerves, then reluctantly took a piece of bacon and nibbled at it weakly. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
"Why aren't you on the team?" Hermione asked from her right.
"Not really a fan of participating in organised sports," she shrugged. "I was born a cheerleader, not a player."
"Is it true you take bets before each match?" Seamus asked her eagerly. Immediately Hermione's curious expression shifted into one of stern disapproval.
"Nah, person you wanna talk to is Lee," Winona told him, ignoring Hermione and nodding up to her group of friends where the dreadlocked boy was twirling a fork around his fingers like a baton. "He's the kingpin of the school's underground gambling system. The twins wanted to do it, but I told them it wasn't good business, since they're actually on the team."
"The school has an underground gambling system?" Ron asked, befuddled.
"You've got a whole lot to learn, Freckles," she told him slyly, winking at him in a move that had become a habit through spending so much time with his brothers. The tips of Ron's ears turned red and he scowled at Winona, making her chuckle.
Harry was laughing too, and she knew she'd completed her self-assigned task of cheering him up. Winona grabbed some bread from the pile, buttered it quickly before filling it with bacon.
"You know, you really shouldn't be gambling," Hermione was saying reproachfully. Harry and Ron exchanged exasperated looks that made Winona snort.
"I'm not," she told the younger girl easily, unbothered by her judgement.
"But your friends-"
"Can do what they like," she finished smoothly. Hermione also went a light pink, but from irritation rather than embarrassment. "Nobody's getting hurt. It's just a bit of fun."
"It won't be fun if McGonagall finds out."
Chewing her sandwich slowly, Winona eyed the girl, assessing her carefully. Her little chin was tilted up as though expecting an argument and her eyes sparked with fire. "That a threat?" Winona finally asked, tone pleasantly curious, and Hermione's chin tilted up higher.
"No, it isn't," Ron interjected before things could get out of hand, not knowing Winona had no real intentions of fighting with the girl. She was only doing what she thought was right; besides, she doubted Hermione would really go to McGonagall to rat them out. Even eleven year olds knew that snitches got stitches. "Don't worry about it, Hermione," he continued quickly. "It's really only the seventh years who participate, and they're all adults anyway."
That wasn't true, most of their business came from fifth year and below, but Winona wasn't about to call him out on it. Hermione hummed, eyes narrowed before she turned back to her meal. From the corner of her eye, Winona saw her friends all stand from the table.
"C'mon Harry," she said, picking up her sandwich to take with her. "You've got a game to win."
"How is he?" Angelina asked as they made their way down to the pitch. Harry, Ron and Hermione were trailing behind them and the rest of the team, who all chattered noisily (except for Wood, who was staring at the ground and frowning severely, as though he were making his way into battle and not an inter-house Quidditch match).
"He'll be fine," Winona assured her, casting the new Seeker a look over her shoulder. Ron was currently explaining something that required large hand gestures and a loud voice, but Harry looked like he wasn't hearing to a word of it. "He's nervous, sure, but remember you before your first game?"
"Just about wet myself when I walked out onto the pitch to see the whole school staring at me," she recalled with a grimace. "Half wanting me to win, the other half hoping I'd end up eating dirt."
"And then you went on to score the most goals in the whole match," Winona finished cheerfully. "He'll do great."
"I don't doubt it," Angelina agreed. "The kid can fly."
"We're sorry to interrupt what we're sure is a very stimulating conversation, Ladies," George interjected before Winona could reply, and the pair were forced apart when the twins barged between them, Fred throwing an arm over Winona's shoulders in a habitual move.
"But we have some business to take care of with Andrews, here," Fred added, beginning to steer their blonde friend away from the dark beauty, who rolled her eyes, far too used to their antics to be surprised.
Once they were sure everyone was out of hearing range, George spoke up. "Go on then," he said eagerly. "Who's gonna win?"
Winona barked a laugh. "That's the business we need to conduct?" she asked, shrugging off Fred's arm and turning to walk backwards down the path, so she could face them as she spoke. "I wouldn't tell you even if I did know," she told them with a smirk.
"So, what you're really saying is…you don't know?"
She rolled her eyes again. "I think I have these visions for reasons more important than knowing who's going to win the school Quidditch matches."
"Says you," George scoffed. "We could be rich by now, you realise that?"
Exasperated, Winona rolled her eyes, turning back around for the rest of the walk down to the Pitch. Wood rushed everyone into the changing rooms and Harry gave a rushed goodbye to his friends before shuffling into the small building, his expression betraying his nerves.
"Come on, then," Fred said, whirling around to face her, leaning forwards and tapping his cheek expectantly. "For luck."
Rolling her eyes for the second time in as many minutes, Winona pressed herself up onto her toes and smacked a noisy, affectionate kiss on his cheek. She smiled up at him before doing the same to George, who snorted at her theatrics.
"Go flatten those snakes," she ordered them, and they were just giving her cheeky salutes when Wood's voice impatiently shouted at them to get inside.
Ron and Hermione took seats by the railing, but Winona moved up a few rows until she found Hope, who was sitting wrapped in a glittering gold jumper, eyeing the empty pitch warily. She'd never been a fan of Quidditch – said it was far too violent for her tastes – but she always came to support her friends anyway.
"How's Katie?" Hope asked as Winona took her seat, rubbing her arms to try and stave off the cold. The sun shone bright in the sky but did little to negate the chill of the biting wind.
"Excited."
"And Harry Potter?"
Winona shot her a mildly irritated look. "You can just call him Harry," she reminded Hope wryly. Her dorm mate didn't react other than to wrinkle her nose. "And he's fine."
"But it's like calling a celebrity by their first name," Hope argued. Winona was surprised – she'd always thought Hope was too down-to-earth to get swept up in something like this.
"He's not a celebrity," Winona said, but Hope shot her a pointed look and she had to reword it. "Okay, maybe he is, but he's also a Gryffindor, which makes him practically family – and you don't call family by their full name."
Hope seemed mildly confounded by her words. "Since when are you so righteous about House spirit?"
Winona melted a little. "Harry's a good kid – and I get the sense that he hates having a big deal made over him. So please try not to treat him like some huge, impossible-to-live-up-to legend? He's just a kid trying to get through his first year at a new school."
Hope lifted her hands as if in surrender. "Flint's a menace, and Harry's only a first year," she smoothly changed the subject, raising her voice to be heard over the growing hum of the crowd. She referred to the Slytherins' current captain, an ugly brute who was probably more troll than wizard.
"He'll be fine," Winona replied stubbornly, turning to look at the pitch as the crowd's cheers grew to a nearly deafening volume. The Gryffindors were walking across the field, their scarlet robes glistening in the sun, brooms thrown casually over their shoulders. Standing to her feet, Winona stuck her fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. She knew the sound was lost in the roar from the other Houses, but she liked to think that, somehow, her friends knew she was cheering them on with everything she had.
The Slytherins stomped onto the field as well, all of them wobbling like overgrown gnomes. The captain, Flint, was clearly choosing brawn over skill when it came to his team. Their emerald robes could have been compared to slimy seaweed, but Winona was too busy clapping for the Gryffindors to take the time to comment.
The game began with a bang, and Winona noted that Harry looked awfully lost, hovering off to the side on his broom, seemingly at odds for what to do. She didn't have long to worry about it, however, her eyes on her mates as they flew all about the Pitch, the Quaffle moving between them almost too quickly to keep track of. She kept her focus on Lee's commentating, but he tended to get a bit off topic, including a train of thought about Angelina's legs that was highly inappropriate but still made her laugh, even as McGonagall furiously shouted for him to stop.
The twins were confident flyers. They never hesitated, zipping across the Pitch and slamming their bats into crazed Bludgers like it were second nature. Ange, Alicia and Katie worked so well together – as Winona knew they would from all their intense practises over the last month.
Some days Winona wished she was out there with them, but she knew she didn't have the guts to do what they did – the pressure they were all under, the kind that made her feel vaguely nauseas, she didn't have the stomach for it.
At one point a Bludger nearly took poor Harry's head off, and she cheered furiously when she saw Fred beat it expertly out of the way.
The Snitch was spotted and the cheers in the stands kicked up a notch. Harry and Higgs went neck and neck, hands stretched out in desperation, but before either could get ahold of the little golden ball, Flint blocked them, forcing Harry to swerve violently out of the way.
Hisses and jeers broke out across the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands, while the Slytherins all looked mighty pleased with themselves at their team's foul tactics.
Gryffindor was awarded a free shot, but the Snitch had disappeared in the chaos. Even Hope seemed disappointed by this, scowling at the Slytherins angrily. Winona shouted a curse at the opposing team that made Hope gasp and turn pink.
Winona smirked slyly, opening her mouth to do it again just to see if she could turn her a darker shade, when she felt a prickle of warning dance across her skin like static in a storm. Turning to face the field, she scanned the air, searching for the red-clad forms of her friends, mentally checking over each of them to be sure they were okay.
It wasn't until her eyes landed on Harry that she realised exactly who it was that was in danger. His broom was jolting violently, like a bull trying to buck him off. Nobody else had seemed to notice, and Winona whirled around on the spot, grappling for an idea, for something to do to help. Could she make it to the teacher's stand in time? Should she try and charm it to stop, somehow float him back to ground?
She dismissed that idea immediately, she knew next to nothing about counter-charms and wasn't willing to risk it.
She mentally kicked herself – why hadn't she seen this? Why hadn't she known this was going to happen? Wasn't that the point of being a seer? To stop the bad things from happening?
She felt ill.
Winona watched as the twins tried to pull him off the malfunctioning broom and onto their own, but the Nimbus only jerked away all the more violently. Heart in her throat, Winona stood with the rest of the crowd, watching in horror as Harry clung onto the broom, desperately trying to keep from plummeting to his death.
She wasn't sure what happened, all she knew was that one moment it seemed Harry was done for, and the next everything was over, and he was climbing back onto a steady broom, zooming directly for the ground with a hand clamped over his mouth like he were about to be sick.
A beat later he was triumphantly holding up the Snitch, a grin on his face that certainly didn't make one think he might have just nearly died.
Nobody cheered at first, still reeling from the events of the last few minutes, but eventually Lee began to shout shrilly that Gryffindor had won, his amplified voice echoing across the pitch, and suddenly the crowd was roaring their jubilation (apart from the Slytherins, who were booing and demanding a rematch like the petulant children they were).
Winona was ecstatic that they'd won the match, of course, but her concern for her friends, both old and new, weighed heavily on her mind. Muttering an excuse to Hope, Winona pushed her way down the rows of seats, making a beeline for the grassy pitch where Harry had been joined by Madam Hooch and the rest of the team.
Flint was screaming his fury at the unconventional win, but Madam Hooch just looked bored. "Potter broke no rules, Flint," she said dryly, a stern look to her pursed features. "Stop whingeing and go gather your wits elsewhere."
Flint gave a blackened sneer, and Winona wondered whether it was commonplace for Pure-bloods like him to have such bad dental hygiene.
Harry was grinning widely, gobsmacked that he'd won the match. Fred and George lifted him up onto their shoulders, starting a chant of, "Harry! Harry! Harry!" that caught on and echoed throughout the pitch.
Once he was lowered back down to the grass, Winona approached, pushing a gushing Wood out of the way. "You alright, Boy-Wonder?" she asked, just to be sure.
Harry beamed, holding up the Snitch as though she may have somehow overlooked it. "I won," he said, sounding like he barely even believed it himself.
"Yes, you did," Winona agreed, appeased that he seemed to be okay. She turned and saw McGonagall and Hagrid, Ron and Hermione all heading towards them, and quickly ducked in to ruffle the kid's hair. "Great flying out there," she finished, and he smiled wider as she turned to the twins, letting McGonagall get a word in over the cheers of the team.
"We did it!" Angelina was shouting. The twins were doing an odd sort of jig around her, Alicia and Katie, all letting out peals of hyper, triumphant laughter.
"Well done!" she called over their exuberant shouts, grinning widely at their excitement.
"Party tonight in the common room!" Fred announced loudly, and he was met with even louder cheers of enthusiasm.
That night Winona struggled to get as into the festivities as everybody else, and she noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked similarly unenthused. The twins had snuck down to the kitchens to gather supplies, deciding to forgo a trip to Hogsmeade since they were so eager to party.
Winona kept to herself, swaying absentmindedly to the music and nibbling on chocolate frogs, but her heart just wasn't in it, her mind occupied with thoughts of Harry nearly being thrown off his broom during the match. Eventually she could do nothing no longer and wound her way through the celebrating Gryffindors to come to a stop beside Harry and his friends, who were murmuring amongst themselves by the hearth of the fireplace.
"Hey guys," she greeted them, dropping down onto the floor at their side. They immediately fell silent, giving her the impression they didn't want anyone overhearing whatever they were talking about.
"Winona!" Harry exclaimed, seeming to relax when he saw it was just her. Hermione leaned forwards, a strange sort of spark to her warm eyes, like she was working overtime to try and figure something out. It instantly put Winona on edge.
"How'd you know about Fluffy?" Ron asked tactlessly, but Winona was at a loss, not even understanding the question enough to be able to answer it.
"What's a Fluffy?" she asked, bemused.
"A few weeks ago, when we were talking about-" the redhead cut himself off abruptly, leaning closer and lowering his voice, "about the three-headed dog on the third floor, you called it Fluffy."
"Did I?"
"We just found out today that that's its name," Hermione said, brown eyes narrowed in careful suspicion. "We asked Hagrid, but he said he never told you, so how did you know?"
Feeling somewhat backed into a corner, Winona could do no more than lift her shoulders in a pathetic sort of shrug. "I dunno," she said lamely. "Must have heard it somewhere." The first-years didn't look convinced. "I'm more concerned with Boy-Wonder over here," she added quickly. "What happened with your broom today? It was like it had a mind of its own."
The three were quiet exchanging a long, meaningful look. "Snape jinxed it," Harry finally spoke, and Hermione let out a squeak of protest. "We can trust her, Hermione," he insisted with a decisive nod, as though that was the end of it. Hermione was still eyeing Winona with distrust, but it didn't matter much to the older student, who just smiled happily at Harry before realising exactly what he'd said.
"Snape…jinxed…your broom?" she asked stiltedly, struggling to make sense of it.
"Hermione and I saw him," Ron interjected with a tinge of eagerness. Winona got the feeling he was sort of excited to talk about it with someone new. "He was muttering under his breath, and he wasn't blinking."
"Sounds like a jinx, all right," Winona murmured, unable to agree. "But why?"
"He tried to get past Fluffy," Harry said quietly, casting a long glance over his shoulder, checking for eavesdroppers. "He's trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
"Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?" Ron asked.
Hermione threw her hands up in the air in sheer exasperation. "Why don't we just tell her our parent's banking pins while we're at it?" she hissed. Harry rolled his eyes and Ron just looked mightily confused.
"I don't know anyone called Nicolas Flamel," Winona answered Ron's question rather than respond to Hermione's words. "Is he a student here? I'm not very good with names, if I'm honest."
"It doesn't matter," Ron sighed, shaking his head.
"Could you...not tell anyone about this?" Harry asked her carefully. She cocked an eyebrow at the request. She couldn't say she exactly understood, but she wasn't about to deny the kid this. Either they were onto something big, or they were completely mad. Either way, she figured it was best not to send people all up in their business.
"All right," she agreed with a two-shouldered shrug.
"Not even the twins?" Ron interjected suspiciously.
Winona rolled her eyes. "Not even the twins," she promised, lifting a hand to draw an X on her chest. "Cross my heart."
Harry looked satisfied and Ron nodded slowly, but Hermione continued to frown.
"Winona!" George was shouting from across the room, and she cast a look over to see Fred and Lee locked in a tense arm wrestle, people loudly encouraging their chosen competitor.
"That's my cue," she told the trio, climbing to her feet and running her hands down the smooth denim of her jeans. "Stay sharp, you three," she said in farewell. Ron lifted a hand in a wave as she turned and traipsed across the room, joining her friends and trying not to think of the suspicious things that seemed to be happening at Hogwarts this year.
Christmas arrived and Winona began to prepare for her friends to all leave for the holiday. She was surprised, then, when Fred and George found her curled up in the common room a few nights before everyone was due to leave for home.
"We have news," they opened with, George dropping into the spot on the couch beside her, while Fred folded himself up on the ground before them. Both were smiling, which either meant something really good or really bad was going to happen. It was honestly a toss-up on which it would be.
"Enlighten me," she replied, shutting the cover of her ratty old sketchbook and looking between them curiously.
"Our parents have decided to abandon us this Christmas season," began Fred woefully, his loud dramatics causing a group of nearby second-years to shoot them bewildered frowns.
"Oh, how cruel they can be," George wailed.
"Get on with it," Winona rolled her eyes.
Both of them straightening, they dropped the act and came out with it. "We're staying at Hogwarts over the holiday this year," Fred told her. Winona lit up at the news.
"Yeah, mum and dad would rather spend Christmas with Charlie in Romania. Merlin knows why," George added with a low snicker.
"You're staying here?" she asked eagerly, barely hearing anything after that part.
"Yup," Fred was beaming away like Father Christmas.
"That's awesome!" she said brightly, practically bouncing in her seat she was so happy. "We can spend the holiday together!"
The days passed, and the holiday itself was upon them. Winona was glad to see that Harry had stayed behind for Christmas too. She wanted to spend more time with the boy; figure out why she kept having visions of his future. That, and maybe figure out why he seemed so familiar.
Winona spent all of her time with the twins during the days leading up to Christmas. They mostly played around in the snow, one of her favourite things to do. Then they liked to camp out near the fire and spend time playing stupid games like Kiss, Marry, Kill or Would You Rather. It was fun and relaxing, everything Winona felt like she needed. Harry was always hanging out with Ron, and she didn't want to seem weird by engaging him in conversation out of nowhere, so she hung back and just let the chips fall where they may.
It wasn't until Christmas Eve that they actually got a chance to talk. The twins had challenged Ron to a game of Gobstones, and the three of them were sat by the fire, shouting at one another over the proper rules of the game.
Harry sat on the couch, watching with a happy, contented smile on his youthful face. Dropping down onto the couch beside him, he looked up in surprise, not having expected her to appear.
"Wotcher, Harry," she greeted him with a smile.
He smiled back. "Hi, Winona."
"You didn't wanna go home for the holidays?" she asked conversationally.
Harry's face scrunched up in something like distaste. "No way. The last place I wanna go is back there," he said bluntly. "Christmas with my aunt and uncle is always a nightmare."
Surprised by this information, Winona sunk down in the cushions and pressed for more. "You don't get on with them?"
"They hate me," he said it with no emotion, like it were just a simple fact of life. Despite the lack of feeling in his voice, there was still a sad gleam to his emerald eyes. She felt sympathy well within her.
"Y'know, I'm an orphan too," she admitted quietly. Harry suddenly seemed much more interested in the conversation, sitting up straight and turning to face her properly.
"Really?"
"Yup. Parents died when I was three. I didn't have any family to take me in, though. I grew up in the foster system."
Harry's eyes were wide as he listened.
"Most of my foster families hated me too," she revealed in a quiet voice, trying to tell the boy how much she understood. "For eight years, the only gift I ever got at Christmastime was from my social worker – and even then it was usually just a coupon for a free milkshake at the local shopping centre."
The look in Harry's eyes told her he knew exactly how she felt.
"But Hogwarts is brilliant, isn't it?" she asked, lips twitching. He smiled back, nodding his head in vehement agreement. "I never knew what it was like to have a home until I came here," she added, glancing over at where George and Fred were arguing loudly with Ron about whose turn it was to set up the Gobstones. She smiled at the sight of them, warm in her gut.
"You really care about them, don't you?" asked Harry quietly. It was a strange observation from an eleven year-old, but she found it didn't surprise her. Harry seemed the observant type.
"They're the closest thing to family I've ever had," she confessed, before glancing over at him sharply. "Tell anyone I said something as sappy as that and I'll permanently singe off your eyebrows. You hear me, Potter?"
"Loud and clear," he agreed, but the grin on his lips told her that he wasn't taking it seriously. She fought back a smirk of her own. "Who were your parents?" he asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.
"Jessica and Orion Andrews," she told Harry. "That's really all I know about them. Just their names."
"You don't remember them at all?"
"I remember my mum, kind of… I think she looked like me," she said with a faraway look in her eye. She could almost see Jessica Andrews in her mind's eye, but it was misty and faint, like a photo taken out of focus. She thought, maybe, in amongst all the fuzz, she could make out a dimpled smile and a head of inky hair.
"Did they go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked curiously, and at the sound of his voice Winona was jolted from her hazy ghost of a memory.
She quickly nodded. "Yeah. They were both in Gryffindor – but that's about all I know."
"Why don't you ask Hagrid about them?" Harry suggested, excited by the idea. "I'm sure he could tell you loads about who they were. He's already told me stuff about my parents."
"I might do that," she lied, not having the heart to explain to him why she wouldn't. "Are your aunt and uncle good to you?" she asked Harry quietly, the thought striking her suddenly.
Harry looked uncomfortable, but he still answered honestly. "Not really," he admitted meekly. "They don't feed me much and they make me do all the housework, and I never get any presents."
He wasn't complaining, just merely relaying a set of facts to her, like someone in the stock market might relay that week's stock numbers.
"Do they ever hit you?" she asked, feeling like she needed to know. Like the answer mattered to her in a way she couldn't explain.
Harry fell silent, this time not answering. And that was all the answer she needed.
She wanted to apologise, but something told her that wasn't the way to go. Instead she leaned closer, shoving up the sleeve of her jumper to show him a jagged scar that ran along the length of her forearm.
"Got this in one of my first ever foster homes," she told him in a whisper. Harry's eyes were wide as he stared at the scar. "Let's just say it wasn't an accident," she added just as quietly. It didn't cause her as much pain to think about, anymore. Maybe she was growing as a person; or maybe she'd just turned numb.
Harry swallowed, the sound loud despite the Weasley boys' shouting.
"We've all got our scars, Harry," she told him with a small smile. He met her eyes in the firelight. "You ever wanna show me yours, I'm here to listen." His hand shot up to the lightning-bolt scar sitting clear as day on his forehead. Winona was already shaking her head. "Not the one I mean," she said, and his young eyes grew wise with an understanding beyond his years.
"Okay," he agreed, sounding shy about the whole thing.
"Good," she chirped, the serious energy melting from her like an ice cube left out in the sun. Harry was surprised by the sudden change of atmosphere. "Come on then, Boy-Wonder," she said, reaching for Ron's chessboard, which lay abandoned on the floor while he versed his brothers at Gobstones. "Let's have a match."
Christmas day dawned and Winona awoke early, sitting up with a small yawn to eye the presents gathered in a pile at the foot of her bed.
She let herself wake up for a few more minutes before waiting no longer, scurrying down the bed to the pile, which she eagerly began to tuck into.
She got all the usual; a new outfit from the girls, a small hoard of her favourite sweets from Lee, a deep violet sweater from Mrs Weasley with a bright golden W on the front. She opened the twins' gift last, tearing off the wrapping impatiently, only to reveal a small case full of brand new watercolours. They weren't the cheap kind either, and she stared at the gift with wide eyes.
She hated the thought of them spending their money on her – but at the same time it was such a perfect and thoughtful gift. Deciding to abandon her worry that they couldn't afford it, she cracked them open and immediately began to test the new colours.
She couldn't afford much – she received such a little allowance from the Ministry, after all – so she mostly stuck to sweets for everyone except the twins. Instead she'd gotten them each a set of new Beater's gloves. One had gold thread, the other crimson. They'd been needing some for ages, and she didn't mind paying the extra bit for the good kind.
She remained in bed, painting for what could have been hours, until finally she thought it was late enough in the day to wake the others up. Dressing quickly in worn old jeans and her brand new Weasley sweater, Winona padded down the stairs in her thick, woollen socks, then took a right and darted up the boys' staircase.
She stopped outside the third year boys' dormitory, knocking gently on the door.
"It's open!" yelled George's voice, and she pushed her way inside, grinning widely at the twins who were stood near the window, laughing about something or other. Crossing the space between them in a series of overexcited bounds, Winona reached Fred first and leapt onto his back like a monkey.
"How'd you know I needed new watercolours?" she asked into his shoulder, smiling as his arms covered hers, gripping her back with force.
"I guess I just do this weird thing where I actually pay attention when you talk," he joked, and she took an extra second to inhale his unique scent of gunpowder, fresh soil, and freshly spun sugar before unwinding her arms and legs and hopping towards George. Her other best friend caught her hand before she could hug him and promptly began to twirl her under his arm instead.
"You guys are the best," she said as George playfully spun her round.
"Merry Christmas, Thumbelina," said George, waiting until she was about ready to be sick before letting go of her hand and swiping up his new gloves, shaking them in her face. "Looks like someone else has been paying attention, too," he said. She grinned at him, knocking her fist gently into his shoulder.
"I see you got your annual Weasley sweater," said Fred from behind her. She realised suddenly that they, too, were wearing their sweaters. Both of them were a deep, cerulean blue that perfectly matched their crystal eyes.
"Best thing I own," she swore, hugging the sweater she was wearing tighter against herself, enjoying the soft wool against her skin.
"Come on," said George, already heading for the door. "Let's wake up the kiddly-winks," he chirped, leading them out into the hall then down a bit until they came to the first-year boys' dormitory, Fred close on his heels.
Winona followed after them, watching in amusement as they burst into their brother's dormitory, the door banging against the wall with a loud sound that made the two boys within nearly jump out of their skin in fright.
"Merry Christmas!" George bellowed enthusiastically.
"Hey, look – Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!" Fred added, pointing at the emerald green sweater laying limp on Harry's bed. "His is better than ours, though," he said, holding up the green sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family. Just look was Win's – she always gets the best colours."
"It's because she loves me more than you," Winona teased. Fred gave a squawk of playful indignation.
"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded suddenly. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."
"I hate maroon," Ron grumbled as he pulled it on over his head. It fit perfectly, Mrs Weasley having it down to a fine art.
"You haven't got a letter on yours," George said, gesturing to the front, which lacked the usual 'R'. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."
It wasn't the first time they'd made that joke, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Winona's shoulders shook with laughter as she took a seat on the end of Ron's bed, gripping onto the post and grinning at them in amusement.
"What's all this noise?" a nasally voice said, and they all turned to look just as Percy stuck his head in through the cracked doorway. "Winona, you know you're not meant to be up here––" he tried to say sternly, but Fred caught sight of the familiar lumpy, off-yellow sweater draped over his arm and leapt on it like a frog on a fly.
"P for prefect!" he said, the words innocuous enough, but the tone teasing. "Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."
"I — don't — want —" Percy tried to argue, but the twins were having none of it. They forced the sweater over his mop of curly red hair, uncaringly knocking his glasses askew.
"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," ordered George briskly. "Christmas is a time for family."
They paused long enough to shoot winks back at Winona before shoving Percy out the door and around the corner. Ron and Harry snorted in laughter, and Winona climbed to her feet. "I see you got some presents," she said to Harry gently.
The boy's face lit up with happiness. "Yeah," he nodded, grinning dopily, like he couldn't quite believe this was his life now, "I did."
Winona smiled back, understanding exactly how young Harry felt. "You two'd better be ready for Christmas dinner," she said lightly as she made her way to the door. "The elves always go over and beyond. It's to die for."
She sent them a final smile before ducking out into the hall, intent on spending the rest of her morning sketching by the fire until they were expected in the Great Hall for the feast.
Dinner was exceptional, as it always was. She sat between the twins and opposite Ron and Harry, the latter of whom was more than slightly entranced by the wizard crackers laid up and down the tables.
Winona spent the meal arguing with Fred and George over which would win in a fight; a bear or a shark. When no conclusion was reached, they roped the two first-years opposite them into the debate. It was easy and fun, light in a way Winona had come to crave. They all wandered from the Great Hall a good few hours later feeling full and happy.
She was intending to make her way up to the common room and experiment with her new watercolours some more, but all thoughts of relaxation were squashed when, as the six of them slowly made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower – taking the scenic route in an effort to walk off their bloated stomachs – a sudden explosion of snow hit Percy right in the face.
The prefect let out an undignified squawk and Winona gasped, shaking off some of the frozen, powdery ice that had hit her in the process. Spinning around, they realised the twins had mysteriously disappeared, undoubtedly the ones behind the well-aimed snowball.
"Shit," she cursed, right before another snowball was lobbed through the window. She ducked just in time to avoid getting hit. "Take cover!" she screamed at Harry and Ron, both of whom were stunned by the sudden attack, frozen where they stood.
Laughing, Winona grasped Harry's arm, yanking him out of the way of another snowball and unceremoniously shoving him down behind a tree for cover. Ron yelped and dived for cover, hiding behind a small bank of snow along the edge of the courtyard.
Harry watched with wide eyes as Winona immediately began gathering snow in her hands, patting it into balls and placing them in a pile at the base of the tree. "Do this often?" he asked, noting with which the ease she moved, cheeks already red from the cold.
She answered with only an impish grin. "Got a good aim, Boy-Wonder?"
"I don't know," he replied honestly.
A snowball crashed against the tree they were hiding behind, fluffy snow raining down on them like pollen after a storm. "Well, we're about to find out," she said brightly. Matching her smile, Harry scooped up a snowball and leant around the tree, aiming for the twins hiding just across the courtyard.
The fight lasted well over an hour. Winona hadn't been wearing any gloves, and she called a ceasefire once she became genuinely concerned that her fingers were going to fall off. They all made their way back up to the tower, freezing cold and dripping wet but content all the same.
Winona had a shower, enjoying her time under the hot spray before dressing in her cosiest pyjamas and heading back down to the common room. She curled up on the couch and set to work sketching the snowy castle on a blank page of her book.
The twins took the opportunity to steal Percy's prefect badge, and she sat, utterly unbothered as Percy chased his brothers all around the common room, yelling weak threats their way when they refused to give it back.
All in all, it was a pretty spectacular Christmas. She might even go as far as to say that it was the best she'd ever had.
School started up again without hesitation and Winona suddenly found herself once more sitting in the damp, creepy dungeon between a giddy Fred and George, who were too busy making spitballs to listen to Snape's sneered lecture on Undetectable Poisons.
From there they went to Defence, where Quirrell kept stuttering over the word 'red' in Redcaps.
"Lighten up," George ordered her as they wandered back to the Tower, Winona dragging her feet and yawning every few steps. "Didn't sleep well?" he continued once Winona gave no witty retort.
"Do I ever?" she asked dryly.
"How can one person simultaneously love and hate school so much?" Fred mused, stroking his chin as though deep in thought.
"It's not school I hate," she argued. "It's the schoolwork."
"Hate to break it to you, Winnie, but that's pretty much what school is," Angelina reminded her while they walked. Winona rolled her eyes, unappreciative of the lame attempt at a joke.
With the start of a new term came more Quidditch practises – the twins complained that Wood was becoming fanatical, practically working them into the ground. Winona usually didn't mind sitting down on the Pitch while they practised, it was a good opportunity to sketch – that is, unless it was raining, which it happened to be doing all the time.
So she stopped going down to the pitch, holing up in various hidden corners around the castle to work on her art. She liked to use the library especially, having always enjoyed not only the ambiance but also the smell of old books. It was peaceful, and usually made it convenient for when she knew she couldn't put off her homework any longer.
On one such day she had her sketchbook plus a thick tome on Herbology open before her. With one hand she absentmindedly sketched a doe in a field, every now and then glancing over at the book and forcing herself to read a few lines for the essay she was supposed to be writing.
She heard snickers to her right, and though she tried to ignore them they steadily grew more annoying, until finally she looked up to see Kerri Wu and Annalisa Hawthorn standing by her table. They were Ravenclaws in the year above her, and they were looking down their noses at where she sat – minding her own bloody business, by the way – and eyeing her critically.
"What?" Winona finally demanded grumpily.
"Did you know you have paint in your hair?" asked Wu with another judgemental snicker.
"No, but it honestly doesn't surprise me," she replied, unbothered, and turned back to her sketching.
Unfortunately, the cool response wasn't enough to make them lose interest. "Why're you always hanging around with those Weasley boys?" asked Hawthorn with another giggle.
"Because I'm shagging them," Winona replied without so much as a blink in their direction. The two Ravenclaws gasped like this were the juiciest scrap of gossip they'd ever heard, which to be fair, it probably was. But like most gossip, not a word of it was true. And also like most gossip, people like Hawthorn and Wu believed it.
"I knew it," hissed Wu triumphantly, and Winona wondered how two people could be so bloody stupid.
"Both at once, Andrews?" asked Hawthorn slyly. "My, my, aren't you adventurous?"
"I guess I can't pick just one, y'know?" Winona responded, dry as could be.
"They are rather delicious," said Wu with a simpering little giggle. "For Gryffindors, I suppose."
"And you're rather stupid for Ravenclaws. But I wasn't going to say anything," Winona said, cool and detached. The girls gasped, offended, but Winona couldn't have possibly cared any less. The two turned and strutted away, hips swinging far too much for a pair of fourteen year old girls. Winona was just glad for the peace and quiet.
Unfortunately, as she would soon learn, all actions had consequences.
She was lounging in the common room the next afternoon, feet dangling over the armrest of the couch as she tried her hardest to concentrate on the chapter about vampires in her Defence textbook, when the twins wandered up to her slowly.
"Something you wanna tell us?" asked George, arms crossed over his chest. She looked away from her book and up at them, noting that they had the expression on their faces that they got when they wanted someone to think they were being stern, but really they were holding back laughter.
"I fancy Snape, and he fancies me," she said dryly, turning back to her book without blinking. "We're planning a June wedding."
Fed laughed once, the sound was ringing with amusement. Winona smirked at a passage on the four most effective uses of garlic in vampire-protection.
"From what we heard, it's not Snape you're eloping with, but rather one of us," said George, and she looked up again, eyebrows raised high in surprise. "Or, troublingly enough, both of us."
She frowned at them in playful confusion. "Are you proposing to me?"
Rolling their eyes, the twins crossed their arms and sent her a serious look. "Win, we've had nine separate people come up to us today and asked whether it's true you're shagging us – at the same time?"
Winona couldn't help the laughter that spilled from her lips. It was loud and unrestrained. The statement was utterly bemusing, and for a moment she had no idea what they were talking about – but then she remembered the throwaway comments she'd made the day before in the library. Laughter petering off, she gave a genuine wince.
"Uh, so Kerri Wu and Annalisa Hawthorn were pissing me off, and I told them I was boning you both to get them off my back," she confessed with a shrug.
"Winona, the entire school believes them," sighed George, exasperated.
"Be serious," she scoffed. "Nobody actually believes it. They just like the gossip of it all. It'll pass."
This time it was Fred who sighed heavily. "Your sense of humour is going to get you killed one day," he said wryly.
"Probably," she agreed with a shit-eating grin. "But at least I'll go out laughing."
The game of Gryffindor against Hufflepuff came and went, but the rumours of Winona shagging the twins remained. All of their friends thought it was simply hilarious, making jokes about sneaking into a broom cupboard so she could have a go at them, too.
Only, it didn't stop there. It wasn't just the fact that everyone thought she was 'shagging the twins', it was that now she had a startling new label, one she certainly hadn't been expecting. Slut.
It took a lot to break through Winona's tough exterior, but even she had to admit, that one hurt. She never thought that would be something people would ever call her; but time makes a fool of us all, she supposed.
The worst part was that nobody would even say it to her face, and it was all done in whispers behind her back. She was only in third year for Merlin's sake – surely people shouldn't have been saying these things about her when she was only thirteen years old. But the gossip train stopped for no one, apparently, and so she adapted, holding her head high and glaring murderously at anyone who so much as dared to snicker as she walked by.
Her lessons with Trelawney were draining, but on the plus side, she seemed to be making a little progress. The batty Divination professor had switched up the herbs she'd been burning in her room, saying that she was out of her usual and had to wait to go buy more.
Instead, this time, she burned lavender, the smell instantly relaxing muscles that Winona hadn't even realised had been tensed. She was meditating, something she'd grown to not totally hate, when a vision came over her, dragging her down like merpeople drowning sailors in a bottomless sea.
She heard a cracking sound, quiet and unobtrusive, followed by a low croaking and an explosion of flames. She felt heat on her face, as though she'd stuck her head into a fireplace, and she saw something green glowing in moonlight from within her mind's eye. There were voices, young and familiar, but she couldn't place them over the whipping of the harsh, frigid wind.
When she finally came to, Trelawney still had her eyes shut, meditating and utterly oblivious to Winona's vision. Once she'd caught her breath, she rolled her eyes at how ridiculous the Divination professor was, before looking down at her most recent prediction.
Harry and Hermione were stood on top of the tallest tower of the castle, a medium-sized crate between them and a handful of wizards hovering up above on broomsticks. Winona stared at it for awhile, trying to make sense of it.
There was small puff of something coming from inside the crate at their feet, and it only took her a moment to identify it as smoke, then another moment to know – inexplicably – that there was a dragon within.
Norbert, the name came to her, unbidden. It was the most she'd ever been able to pull from a prediction before, and Winona was still staring down at the image twenty minutes later Trelawney's off-key humming came to an end and she opened her milky eyes.
"Ah," sighed Trelawney, rolling her neck. Winona grimaced when her joints cracked loudly, but the divination professor didn't notice. "Well, that was wonderful. Did you connect with your inner eye, my dear?"
Winona shook her head. "Not today," she lied, and Trelawney believed her – hardly surprising. Trelawney could be so gullible; which was awfully ironic considering her field of so-called 'expertise'. "But the meditation was good," she added kindly. "I feel so relaxed."
Trelawney lent forwards hopefully. "And are your chakras aligned?"
"Perfectly," Winona told her, the standard lie she gave at the end of every lesson. Trelawney nodded happily.
"I'll let you go now – a nice hot shower will help soothe your soul; and wash off the scent of the herbs."
Relieved, Winona stuffed her things into her bag, getting ready to leave.
"Oh, and you must work on your Tarot card readings," Trelawney continued as she stood to her feet to collect their used teacups. "It's an essential element in any Seer's collection of skills. You need to focus on connecting with your inner eye to channel your Sight into the cards. Have you managed to purchase a deck of your own, yet?"
Ah, she knew she'd been forgetting something. "Sorry, professor," Winona told her, meaning it this time. "I haven't had time to order some."
Trelawney batted her apology away. "No matter," she rasped, turning to a chest of drawers along the far wall and rooting through them for a moment before pulling free a small stack of worn old cards. "You may use these until you get your own. It's an older deck, but you'll find that gives it a life of its own."
Cautious, Winona took the deck from her, a small smile on her lips. "Thank you."
Climbing back down out of Trelawney's attic, Winona weighed the deck of Tarot cards in her hand as she walked back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. They felt strange, the worn cardboard seeming to prickle against her bare skin.
She'd always shied away from branching out into the different forms of divination, but something suddenly occurred to her. Maybe this could be a way of channelling her abilities without actually slipping into a vision. Maybe she could bypass the crypticness of it all entirely and just straight to the knowledge part.
With a resolve in her heart, Winona descended the stairs, a little bit lighter than when she'd gone up them.