A few days later the school woke up to find Gryffindor no longer in the lead for the House cup, and the story of Harry's late-night blunder came to light.

Harry, along with Neville and Hermione, had lost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points in total, and he went from being the most popular and well-liked first year in the school to being the single most despised.

Apparently Harry and Hermione had fed Malfoy some bogus story about a dragon that Hagrid was hiding, and using that they'd led Malfoy up to the Astronomy Tower in attempt to make him look the fool.

Nobody except Winona knew the real story – or at least, what little she could gather from a hastily-drawn sketch and a force she called the 'ether' (it was really just another word for the Inner Eye that Trelawney always went on about; Winona just saw it differently). The dragon story was a real one, and they'd been doing it to save people, not to humiliate anyone.

Winona, who'd never particularly cared for the House cup herself, didn't really give a damn. Harry and Hermione had been trying to do the right thing – that was what mattered.

The twins, on the other hand, were majorly pissed. They'd practically shunned the three first-years, referring to Harry only as the Seeker when they had to at Quidditch practise.

"You're being ridiculous," she chided them after practise one day. She'd seen the utterly heartbroken look on young Harry's face, and her insides had twisted with sympathy. Nobody deserved to be treated so harshly – especially not an eleven year-old kid who'd only been trying to help a friend.

"He cost us the House Cup, Winnie," Fred argued righteously.

"You cost us the House Cup in our first year when you tried to dose Snape with that love potion," she reminded him tartly. "Nobody ever hated you for that."

"Well, yeah – because that was funny!" said George, struggling to keep hold of the upper hand.

"So you're just going to keep ignoring the kid? He made a mistake, so what? S'not like the two of you are exactly saints, now, is it?" she snapped bitingly.

The twins only grumbled, and fed up, Winona gave a sharp exhale of frustration before speeding away from them. The pair called after her halfheartedly but she didn't care, moving faster until she made it up to Harry, who was walking alone up ahead of everyone, his head hung low and his shoulders slumped.

"Hey, Boy-Wonder," she greeted him just as she normally would, nudging him in the side to get his attention. He looked up quickly, startled, then his expression evened back out glumly. "Ignore the lot of them," she said, arms crossed over her chest. "They're just being petty."

"But they're your friends," he said, a crease between his brows.

"So are you," she told him. The frown on his face evaporated, replaced by surprise, but the gloominess returned just as quickly.

"I lost a hundred and fifty points, Winona," he reminded her sadly. "That isn't something everyone can just forgive."

Winona snorted at the ridiculousness of the statement. "They're points on a scoreboard, Harry, not human lives," she shot back. "Besides, you were doing the right thing by Hagrid and Norbert. I think your conscience can stay clear."

Harry kicked miserably at a loose stone on the ground. "Yeah, I s'pose..." he trailed off, only to look back up, eyes wide in shock. "Wait – how did you know about that?" he hissed. "How did you know about Norbert?"

Winona had to concede that she really should have been better at keeping secrets for somebody who held so many. And usually she was good at it – saying nothing, letting nobody know the things she did about the coming days that would test them all – but something about Harry brought her guard down. He was too easy to talk to, and she felt a kinship with him that she didn't even with the twins.

Because the twins were amazing, her best friends in the world, but they'd grown up in a huge, happy, loving family. No matter how hard they tried, they'd never truly understand what it was like to have no one; to learn how to fly under the radar to avoid beatings; to hide away spare food like a squirrel because you weren't sure when your next real meal would be.

They wouldn't ever be able to get it. None of her friends would; all of them had families of their own. All except Harry. Apart from some of the Muggles her age she knew from the system, he was the only other orphan she knew. And somehow that bonded them in a way she couldn't explain.

There was also the whole Seeing-him-in-the-ether-since-she-was-eleven thing, but she liked to think the other points were more important.

With all this in mind and heart, Winona knew she could trust Harry, and she also knew she didn't want to lie. So she smiled mysteriously, lifting a finger and tapping it playfully against her nose. Harry's mouth opened and shut several times in the striking impression of a koi fish. She smiled wider, and opened her mouth to say more when hands grasped her shoulders, pushing her forwards.

"Come on, Winnie," said Angelina tightly, very clearly refusing to look in Harry's direction. "I wanna get started on that Astronomy homework."

Casting a final, apologetic smile towards Harry, Winona let Angelina link their arms and drag her away from the Boy-Wonder.

Days passed and Winona was forced to focus mostly on her studies. Exams were coming up and she knew she had to work hard if she wanted to at least scrape by with an Acceptable.

However, there was something coming. She could feel it in the same way she could feel a storm brewing on the horizon. It sat, heavy and insistent in her head, like a pressure against her eyes, a vision just dying to be set free. She wondered for days what it could possibly be.

The exams hit them like a wave, and then Winona was to busy to focus on the ominous feeling that sat low in her gut.

Until she was walking back to the Gryffindor common room after her Transfiguration exam, completely alone, when it finally happened. The dam in her mind gave way and all of a sudden she was flooded with visions. They flickered across her vision, and before she totally surrendered she felt her legs give way beneath her. She crumpled to the ground, just barely hanging onto sense long enough to pull her sketchbook from her book bag before everything went terrifyingly dark.

The vision was beyond powerful, she felt the urgency of it thrum through her veins, insistent and unforgiving. Sensation disappeared and she focused on what she was glimpsing.

The fluttering of wings from all around her, the smashing of some kind of stone. She saw fire all around her, it nearly scolded the skin of her face. It was harsh and she couldn't breathe, inhaling the thickened smoke of the flames.

It was clearer this time, more so than it had ever been. She shuddered with the force of it, with the impact of the knowledge filling her head.

And then it was over and she was gasping for air like she'd been held underwater for an hour, blinking at the world around her, relieved to be back in the present. She looked down at her sketchbook, taking in the blindly drawn lines on the fresh slab of parchment.

She had to find Harry. She had to tell him what she'd seen.

As she raced back up to Gryffindor Tower, the thought crossed her mind that she really should have been going straight to Dumbledore. That was what she was supposed to do, that was what she had agreed to do – but she couldn't help the instincts that were scratching at her innards, telling her exactly who to tell – and who not to tell.

Because when it came down to it, Harry was his own person. She shouldn't have had to run everything through Dumbledore. What right did that old man have to dictate what she could and couldn't tell Harry? He wasn't Harry's guardian, and he certainly wasn't hers. Besides, she knew that this was something Harry Potter had to do for himself.

She found Ron, Hermione and Harry already sitting in the common room. The majority of Gryffindor were still completing their exams, so the room was almost completely empty. Only a group of fourth years in the corner remained, leant over Herbology notes with wild eyes, furiously cramming for their upcoming test.

She moved over to the young trio, a frown pulling at her mouth. "I need to talk to you," she said softly, crouching down to their level where they were clumped around the hearth, the light of the fire flickering on their young, chubby faces.

" 'Bout wha'?" asked Ron, halfway through chewing a pumpkin pasty.

Gathering her courage, she lowered herself to the rug below, leaning in further to ensure nobody else could overhear. "I know about the trap door. I know you're planning to go through it," she said quietly. The looks of shock on their faces were almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.

"But – but we're not," said Ron, gaping at her once he'd swallowed his mouthful. "I mean, we were just talking about not going down..."

"You were?" she blinked, one hand moving to press over her bag, where her sketchbook lay idle. "I'm early?" she asked herself in confusion, crease appearing between delicate brows.

"Winnie, what are you talking about?" asked Harry, serious and maybe a little bit frustrated.

And Winona didn't want to lie. She lied all the time. She was sick of it. Maybe she didn't know exactly what connected her and Harry, but she knew, deep in her gut, that something did. And if there was one rule a Seer should always follow, it was that they had to follow their gut.

"I'm a Seer," she blurted, admittedly tactless.

The trio of first-years fell carefully silent, varying degrees of disbelief on their faces. Ron's mouth had dropped open wide. Harry looked confused, maybe trying to work out what she was ultimately trying to say. Hermione, however, was frowning crossly, more than unimpressed by Winona's proclamation.

"A Seer?" she was the first to speak, staring across at Winona dubiously, the firelight dancing across her young face, casting shadows across it like caverns on the moon. "Winona, getting top marks in Divination doesn't make you a Seer-"

Indignation rose within her, and Winona glared at the young girl with enough fury that, for once in her life, Hermione Granger shut the fuck up. Satisfied that the girl was going to be quiet, she yanked one of her older books free of its place at the bottom of her bag, flipping it open with practised ease until she found the page she was looking for.

"I drew this when I was eleven," she told Harry, handing it over to him and trying not to roll her eyes when Hermione and Ron clamoured closer to look. It was the picture of him, just standing there, all baby fat and messy hair and sad, glittering green eyes.

"You knew me when you were eleven?" Harry asked, voice quiet. Winona couldn't name the emotion in his voice, but that wasn't surprising. She didn't do so great with the emotional aspect of, y'know, being human.

"No," she told him evenly, meeting his eyes. "No, I didn't."

"How do you know you're a real Seer, though?" asked Ron critically. "Maybe you just got lucky."

"Dumbledore knows," she told them, peeking over her shoulder just to be sure the fourth years in the corner were still absorbed by their study notes. "So does Trelawney, the Divination Professor. I meet with her once a week." Ron's eyes were wide. "That and the fact that I've drawn plenty of things that have actually come true."

"Like what?" asked Harry, finally looking away from the sketch of himself to blink up at her.

"People falling down stairs, or food fights in the great hall. Nothing life changing." The memory of drawing Dumbledore's death burned red hot in her head, but she kept her mouth shut. That was none of their business, and despite her breaking her word and telling them about her ability, she wasn't about to go that one step further and destroy the Headmaster's trust completely. "You're going to go down that trap door. Soon."

They all looked up at her now, bewilderment on their faces. "But we don't want to," argued Harry with a downward pull of his mouth. He still wasn't getting it.

"Something's going to change," she whispered. "And then you will."

"What is it?" asked Hermione, brown eyes narrowed skeptically. "What's going to change?"

Winona fought to keep herself from grimacing at the question. "I don't know," she confessed.

"Why not?"

"I'm not Cassandra Vablatsky," she snapped. Hermione flinched under the assault and Winona shifted guiltily. Breathing deeply, she muttered a, "sorry," before gently taking her sketchbook back from Harry. "Look, let me know before you're planning to go down," she said, shoving the book back into her bursting bag.

"Well, we're not planning on doing that," said Harry, still mightily confused.

"Okay, but when you are, come find me first."

"But we're not-" began Ron.

She held up a hand. "Just give it a few days, okay? If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and I'll owe you a Coke or something."

"A what?"

"Never mind," Winona sighed, catching sight of the tiniest hint of a smile on Harry's face. "Look, I've gotta go, but you guys need to promise me something."

"What?" asked Hermione, immediately suspicious. It was as though she half expected her to try to coerce them into committing high treason or something. The lack of faith was as offensive as it was understandable.

"Don't tell anyone what I can do," she said rather than rise to the bait, lowering her voice just to be safe. "It's really important that nobody knows."

"Do the twins know?" asked Ron without so much as a breath.

Winona scoffed. "Of course the twins know," she said dryly, pointing at him and smirking at the others as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. "No one else though. I trust those two with my life, which means that if this leaks, I'll know for sure it was one of you and I don't care how young you are, I'll kill every last one of you. Capisce?"

Now the trio of eleven year olds looked truly scared. "Promise," said Harry, the only one brave enough to respond. She nodded, accepting it at their word.

"Why tell us at all, though?" questioned Hermione, sounding confused. "I mean, what's so special about us?"

Winona's lips pulled up into a wry smirk, amused by the question in a way she didn't completely understand. "I'm not sure yet," she told Hermione honestly. "But there's definitely something."

The kids all glanced at one another, and Winona took the opportunity to stand to her feet. They watched her, eyes following her movements.

"Remember, a soul finds out and your arse is grass," she warned, and Ron gulped loudly at the threat. Wiggling her fingers in their direction, she turned to leave, exiting out the portrait hole, doing her best not to panic about the fact that she'd just told a group of eleven year-olds her most dangerous secret.

Something told her she could trust them – and even that it was vital they knew, for reasons she couldn't yet understand – and so she forced herself to take a deep breath and continue on her way to the Great Hall for lunch.

But for the whole rest of the day, she couldn't for the life of her get this trap door situation out of her mind. There had to be more she could do to help – there just had to be.

That night, as the dorm mates were chattering about exams and getting ready for bed, Winona made up an excuse about forgetting something in the common room and left their dorm. The common room was mostly empty – only a handful of fifth years in the corner, desperately cramming for their OWLS – and so she was able to slip up the boys' staircase unnoticed.

She knocked briskly on the boys' door, and a moment later it was pulled open to reveal George. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Winnie?"

From his place up the back of the room next to his bed, Fred lifted his head.

Winona smiled at George in greeted and ducked smoothly under his arm, one hand holding her bag close to her side as she made her way towards the Fred. "Mind if I hang out in here awhile?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"We have our Potions exam tomorrow," said George even as he shut the door after her. "Don't you wanna get some rest?"

Winona shook her head. "Rest won't do anything to help me pass," she said, keeping her voice low when she noticed Lee snoring loudly from his bed in the far corner. "Besides, I have more important things to be working on."

The twins exchanged a glance. "What do you need?" asked Fred.

"Peace and quiet," she said, already fishing in her bag for her materials. She pulled out first a few small candles, placing them around the room and lighting them with a flick of her wand. Then she climbed onto Fred's bed and settled in the middle of the mattress, already pulling out her sketchbook and a stick of charcoal.

"You're trying to induce a vision?" asked Fred, putting it together.

"I can't exactly do it in my own dorm," she replied, rolling her neck in an effort to try and relax. The twins were silent, and she opened her eyes, suddenly guilty. "Is this okay?" she asked, realising that storming her way into their dorm and taking up all the space on Fred's bed wasn't exactly the polite way of asking for help.

But Fred was quick to wave away her concern. "Of course," he said without hesitation. "I'll crash with George."

Winona's lips twitched up. "You're going to share a bed?"

George shrugged. "We shared a crib for the first two years of our life – so we've certainly got enough practise."

She laughed, keeping quiet for Lee's sake.

"How long do you need?" asked Fred.

"I don't know," she told him honestly. "It could take awhile."

"What are you looking for?"

Winona frowned, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. She hadn't brushed it before leaving her dorm, so it was hanging around her face, wavy from the braid she'd had it in all day. "I don't know yet," she admitted. "I think I'll just know it when I find it."

The twins exchanged another look. "But it's important?"

She nodded. "Very."

George smiled. "Then you'd better get to work."

The twins settled onto George's bed, flicking up a quick Silencing Charm so they could talk without distracting her. Winona shot them a grateful smile before straightening her spine, shutting her eyes, taking a deep breath, and letting her mind go blank.

Meditating wasn't her favourite thing to do, but she'd grown to find a certain peace in it. It was nice to stop thinking for awhile; just to let herself exist without worry or anxiety and the inane chatter that forever lingered in one's mind.

She reached out with her senses, blindly searching the aether and breathing in the stimulating herbs from Trelawney's candles. When she was meditating, time meant nothing. She wasn't aware of the seconds, minutes, or hours ticking by. All she knew was the aether, that sea of something that ran throughout space and time, rushing through her and all other living things like a current. She just swam.

The trouble with not knowing what you were looking for was not being able to know it when you saw it. But something in her – distant and powerful – knew exactly what she needed to find, and it searched for her, diving through the riptide of time to catch it.

She wasn't sure how long she was under before she was finally triggered into the vision she needed to have.

Everything was hot, fire licking at her skin, the orange flames dancing in the corner of her eye. Smoke was filling the room, nearly choking her, and there was a hissing voice, evil and dripping with venom. Winona felt danger prickling at her skin, a warning. The voice grew angry, she could tell that much even through the words were indistinct.

Closer and closer the voice came, like hot breath on the back of her neck; a searing pain in her forehead, like her skull was lit on fire and being split in two. Someone was screaming, begging for something – but what?

Winona came out of the vision with a gasp, immediately dropping her head into her hands, cradling it gingerly, the pain slow to recede.

"Winnie?" came Fred's voice, low with concern.

Winona didn't answer, wrenching open her eyes despite the pain and peering blearily down at the glimpse of future she'd etched onto paper.

Harry was standing with Quirrell, but the Defence teacher didn't look like himself. His features – drawn hastily in crude lines of black charcoal – were twisted into a poisonous snarl, and his hands were outstretched, wrapped around Harry's neck.

Heart hammering in her chest, Winona stared at the prediction a moment longer, searching the aether for answers.

Now, something whispered in the very back of her mind. Now!

"I have to go," she blurted. The twin – who by now were hovering together at the end of Fred's bed, watching her in concern – stepped backwards as she hastily shoved her things back into her back and leapt from the bed.

"Win, what's going on?" Fred called after her as she raced for the door. Distantly she heard Lee snort himself awake, but she paid him no mind.

"I'll explain later!" she shouted back to Fred, yanking open the dorm door and sprinting down the stairs into the common room.

Winona glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner, stunned by how late it was – had she really been out of it for so long?

Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't anywhere in the common room, and just when Winona was about to storm her way back up the stairs to bang on the first years' door, she spied something laid motionless on the floor in the walkway near the portrait hole.

"What the…?" she trailed off, pulling out her wand just to be safe as she approached. It didn't take her long to realise it was just a kid – a first year judging by his chubby cheeks. He was in a Full Body Bind, and though she didn't know his name, his eyes were screaming out for help.

She flicked her wand at him, muttering the counter curse, and the poor kid's stiffened limbs relaxed. He sat up, relief making his body limp.

"What happened to you?" she asked him as he slowly climbed to his feet. "Did a Gryffindor do this?"

The kid took a moment to swallow loudly and wring his hands together anxiously. "It-it was Ron, H-Harry, and H-Hermione," he stuttered, eyes wet with something like betrayal.

Winona leant down slightly, so their eyes were level, and said, "tell me everything."

Once the kid – Neville, he said – was finished with his short tale, Winona sent him up to bed with a promise to take care of it. That had made poor Neville terribly nervous ("If you go after them, you'll just lose us points, too!") but Winona was stern enough that he reluctantly made his way back up to his dorm.

The moment he was out of sight, Winona was gone. Her bag banged hard against her thigh as she climbed through the portrait hole and sprinted back through the castle, but she barely felt it.

She wasn't caught on her way to Dumbledore's office, which was lucky, because she definitely didn't have time to explain any of this to some unwitting teacher. She shouted the password at the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's study, then took the stairs two at a time until she reached the top.

She banged her fist hard against the door, but there was no answer from within. When she tried the handle, however, the door was already unlocked. Winona pushed her way into the room, but Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.

She stood in the centre of his large, circular office, doing her best to catch her breath as she thought through her predicament.

Maybe she should have gone straight to the trap door instead? Maybe coming all the way up here was a waste of time? Surely there was something she was meant to do, some reason she'd even had any vision at all.

Just as she was about to run back down to the third-floor corridor and try tackling this whole thing herself, the fireplace exploded with green flames and Dumbledore appeared, more serious than Winona had ever seen him.

"Professor!" Winona cried, relief like a drug. "It's Quirrell! Quirrell's the one after the stone! He's down there with Harry right now. He's going to try to kill him!"

"You had a vision?" Dumbledore asked, thunder in his voice and eyes.

"There're flames, and a mirror, and Quirrell's choking him, and-and-"

"Stay here," Dumbledore ordered her shortly.

"But I need to come!" she argued. "I can help!"

Dumbledore crouched to her level much like she had with Neville only a few minutes earlier. His large, gnarled hand came to rest on her small shoulder, gripping her tight, sapphire eyes narrowed as he stared her down.

"Voldemort is in this castle at this very moment," he told her urgently, trying to make her understand. "If he discovers you – if he gets his hands on you for even a moment-" he cut himself off, as if the words were too horrible to say aloud. "Harry will be okay – but you need to stay hidden. Do you understand, Winona?"

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, barely able to speak. "Yes, sir," she finally choked out.

With a final nod Dumbledore swept from the room, disappearing down his stairs and out of sight. Fingertips trembling, Winona took a seat in her usual chair at his desk, leaning back against the plush lining, and stared into the fire as time ticked by at a snail's pace.

Winona was awoken by a gentle shaking of her shoulder. She shot upright instantly, eyes wide with panic that dissolved once she realised it was just Dumbledore.

He was leant over her, blue eyes twinkling merrily from behind his half-moon spectacles. There were no windows in his office, but somehow she knew it was daytime. At some point she'd fallen asleep and, mortifyingly enough, the Headmaster had covered her in a blanket – some old knitted throw that smelt of mothballs.

Now he woke her up, patient and gentle once more – a sharp contrast to the wild eyes of the night before.

"How do you feel?" he asked once she seemed alert, making his way back to his desk chair and taking a seat. With a wave of his hand the tea set on the side table began to prepare itself.

"Harry?" she asked rather than answer.

"Well enough," Dumbledore told her quietly. The answer was hardly comforting. He seemed to note the frustration in her eyes and a small smile twitched at his lips, only serving to irritate her further. "Harry nearly died last night," he began, and Winona sucked in a sharp breath. "But he didn't. He's alive; recovering in the Hospital Wing. He's going to be fine after a good few days rest."

Winona's mouth felt dry, so she was relieved when the teacup floated towards her. Plucking it from the air, she drank it down, uncaring that it burnt her tongue.

"Why was Quirrell attacking him?" she asked once she'd found her voice. "What was he after?"

Dumbledore assessed her for a few moments, eyes narrowed and considering. Winona stared back, forcing herself to be patient. She wouldn't get anywhere by stubbornly demanding answers.

Finally the Headmaster sighed, leant forwards in his chair, and began to tell her about how Voldemort had been hidden in the back of Quirrell's turban, and how Harry had been able to defeat him down the trapdoor with nothing but his bare hands and his mother's lasting love.

Winona listened, taking it all in without a word. When Dumbledore was done, he leant back in his chair and folded his hands on the desk in front of him, waiting patiently for her to speak. When she didn't, he seemed vaguely surprised.

"Surely you knew something like this was coming," he said, eyes intense.

Winona shook her head, then reconsidered and fell still . "I knew something bad was coming – but You-Know-Who returning?"

"Voldemort hasn't returned," Dumbledore corrected her softly. "Not really. Not to his true power. Not yet." Winona didn't react to the scary statement, and Dumbledore's lips twitched up into a grim smile. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Winona's mouth went dry again, and so she finished off the last of her tea. "I know there are dark days ahead," she whispered, staring down into the leaves in the bottom of her tea cup. Some distant part of her mind recognised a wonky cross in the shape of the leaves; suffering. She didn't want to think about that now. "My dreams are so horrific these days. I don't remember any of it clearly, but there's a darkness in them – in the future they come from…"

Dumbledore said nothing, perhaps sensing she wasn't looking for his empty reassurances. She didn't want to hear him tell her everything was going to be okay. She wasn't interested in pretty lies.

"Why did I even have that vision last night?" she asked after a silence that seemed to stretch on for yonks. Dumbledore tilted his head, asking her to elaborate. "I saw Quirrell attacking Harry, but not in time to do anything to stop it. It was useless. I didn't do anything towards helping. If anything, I was in the way. I would have been better off staying in my dorm. So why did I even have the vision at all?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and stared at her over them, the look in his crystal eyes thoughtful. "Were you actively searching for a vision?" he wondered.

Surprised by the question, Winona frowned. "Well, yeah," she said. "I had a bad feeling and I wanted to know why."

"Well then I presume that's your answer," Dumbledore told her patiently. Confused, Winona just stared. "You were searching for a vision. You forced one into being – and I'm not saying that was a wrong thing to do," he amended quickly, lifting a hand when she grew defensive. "All I'm saying is, it didn't come from the – what was it you call it?"

"Aether."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "The invisible force that permeates and binds all living things. An apt name for the rare phenomenon of true precognition."

Winona didn't say anything, and Dumbledore leaned back again as he continued on.

"I believe you didn't get a vision earlier because what happened last night was supposed to happen. Nothing was meant to be changed or altered in any way."

"But why not?" she asked, the question coming out whined.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Some things aren't for us to know. But all the same, it's best to listen when the aether talks to you. It's there for a reason."

For some reason her heart was racing, like her insides knew the burning truth of the Headmaster's words. "Can the things I See ever even be changed?" she breathed. "Because what's the point if they can't? Then all of this is for nothing."

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed, but neither turned to look at it. Dumbledore's usual airy expression evaporated, replaced by something sharp and intent, radiating with grave importance.

"Something was set into motion last night," he began slowly and deliberately, making sure she heard every word. "Something bigger than any of this; something dark, dangerous. Something that will test us all and force us to make sacrifices we cannot bear."

Winona swallowed thickly.

"There are days coming, Winona, when your Sight is going to save lives; the lives of complete strangers, and that of those most close to you. Everything happening now? This is all just practise for when those days arrive. Do you understand?"

She didn't, not really, but she nodded anyway.

"You have these abilities for a reason. And one day that reason is going to make all the sense in the world."

"Why can't that day be today?" she asked. The question made her sound like a child, but when it was all boiled down – wasn't that exactly what Winona was? She liked to think she was mature, that she'd grown up fast – and in some ways that was true. But in reality Winona was still only just a fourteen year old girl. She was still just a kid.

Dumbledore smiled and Winona found it tinged with sympathy. "That day will come, and when it does it will feel like mere minutes since we had this conversation," he told her gently. "Be patient and keep moving."

Winona could do nothing but agree. Dumbledore sent her off after that, telling her to get back to her dorm and get some quality rest before her Potions exam later that afternoon.

She walked back to the tower alone, and she was stopped by no less than five separate people wanting to know if the story of what happened with Harry and Quirrell was true. She figured they were asking because she was known to be a friend of Harry's, but she wasn't about to tell them anything. With a few well-timed insults, Winona was able to escape their clutches and hightail it back to her dorm.

She was expecting an onslaught of attention from her friends the moment she clamoured through the portrait hole, but instead they were sitting by the fire and eagerly discussing the rumours of last night's events.

"Winnie!" called Alicia as she caught sight of her. Cautiously Winona approached. "Did Flitwick give you bad news?" she asked conversationally.

Winona blinked. "Huh?"

"Y'know, the meeting you just had with him?" Fred prompted her abruptly. "You were so slow to get out of our dorm this morning, I thought you might have actually missed it."

And then she understood. Fred and George had devised a cover story for her so that nobody would ever think to link her disappearance and the events of the night before. It was genius, really. Winona sometimes fell asleep in the boys' dorm after staying up too late sketching or hanging out, so it wasn't an unheard of situation.

Quickly, she leapt on the opportunity to keep her whereabouts a secret. "No bad news – he just wanted to clarify one of my answers."

Angelina perked up. "Did he give you your grade yet?"

"No, not yet."

Then Lee asked eagerly if she'd heard what had happened with the three first years and Professor Quirrell the night before, and playing dumb, Winona quickly nodded her head. Lee launched into a retelling of the story – absolutely jam-packed with embellishments – but Winona pretended to listen with rapt attention.

During Lee's long-winded, theatrical explanation, Winona caught Fred's eye. He was across from her, playing a halfhearted game of cards with Katie, but he looked up when he felt her watching him.

Meeting his stare, she smiled, wide and full of gratitude. "Thank you," she mouthed when nobody else was paying her any attention. He grinned, so broad it threatened to split his face in two, and batted his hand like he were swatting away her thanks.

It wasn't until the next day that she saw Hermione and Ron. They were down by the lake, doing their best to hide from eager students looking for the real story behind their grand adventuring. She split off from her friends, watching as they wandered towards the lake. It was a weekend, so robes weren't compulsory, and they'd dressed in old clothes they didn't mind getting wet, just so they could enjoy the warmer weather down by the edge of the lake.

Hermione and Ron were sat by the base of a willow tree, talking between themselves quietly. Winona almost felt bad to interrupt – but they were only a pair of eleven year-olds. How much could she really be intruding?

"Winnie!" said Ron the moment he spied her. She waved to the pair, taking a seat on the bank beside them.

"How's Harry?" she asked them quietly.

"Still out cold," said Ron, disappointment and worry on his freckled face. "Dumbledore said he'll tell us once he's woken up."

"Do they think it'll be long?"

Hermione shook her head. "Pomfrey says any day now."

"Good," Winona nodded. They sat in silence for a minute, and in the distance they could hear Alicia and Katie squealing as the boys splashed them with cold lake water. "Why didn't you come find me?" she asked, brow furrowed. "I could have helped."

Hermione and Ron suddenly looked guilty, and Winona felt a little glad they were at least a little sorry for their actions. "We managed well enough," Ron still said, a little defensive.

Winona didn't react to meet his energy. "And imagine how much better it'd have gone if you'd had a Seer with you," she told him simply. Ron grimaced, seeing her point, but Winona wasn't done. "Not to mention that I'm a third year. I might not be the school's star pupil, but even I know more defensive magic than the three of you put together."

"We get it, Winnie," Ron rolled his eyes. But by now, Hermione looked properly chagrinned.

"It all happened rather quickly," she said sheepishly. "If we'd had longer to think, we might've-"

"It's okay, Hermione," Winona assured her. "You don't have to convince me. I just want you guys to know you can trust me – anything you need, okay?"

The pair exchanged a silent glance, but Winona was so used to it from the twins that it hardly bothered her at all. "All right," Hermione finally agreed.

"Good," Winona smiled. "And let me know when Harry's up for visitors, yeah?" Just as they nodded Winona's friends began to call her name from the water's edge. "That's my cue," she said, and with a wave of farewell Winona made her way back over to her friends.

The next day Winona was sketching by the window in the Gryffindor common room when Hermione approached, happiness in her eyes. "Harry's awake."

Winona sat up straight. "Right now?"

Hermione nodded. "Ron and I just got back from the hospital wing," she explained. "Madam Pomfrey's pretty strict about visitors, but so long as you don't stay too long she should let you in."

Winona thanked Hermione and began to pack up her things. It wasn't until she was out of the common room and halfway up to the hospital wing that Winona remembered a rather glaring issue with her plan to visit Harry.

Taking a detour, Winona found Fred and George by the Entrance Hall, playing with a small pile of Filibuster's Fireworks for a group of enraptured first years.

"Winnie!" the twins cried when they spotted her, and Fred was quick to throw one of the heat-less sparks towards her. She caught it in her hand and then did a theatrical toss to throw it back to him. The first years all laughed, attracting even more to them, like some kind of homing signal.

Winona caught Fred's eye and without a word he tossed his sparks to George who cheerfully went about juggling them like a clown at the circus. Winona wound her arm through Fred's and began to lead him away. Her best friend came without question, giving only a meaningful nod to George in farewell.

"I need help," she began, still keeping their arms linked as she began to navigate them back up towards the hospital wing.

"Sure," said Fred easily.

"Harry's just woken up, and I want to go visit him in the hospital wing."

Fred fell quiet, a little bit surprised. "Really?" he asked, sounding befuddled. "You wouldn't even come visit George and I that time we accidentally glued our backsides together."

And it was true – up until this point, the only time Winona had ever been in the hospital wing was when she'd broken her arm the year before and passed out, having woken up only to get the hell out of there as fast as her feet would take her.

But this time was different. Harry hadn't just accidentally glued himself to someone, or lost his eyebrows fro ma faulty joke product – he'd been face to face with (what little remained) of Voldemort himself. He'd nearly been killed, right here at Hogwarts, beneath their very feet.

She needed him to know he wasn't alone. That he had someone who understood. Winona had been there with him, in a distant, magical sort of way. She'd seen Quirrell's hands wrapped around his young throat. She'd smelt the smoke from the fire in the doorway. She'd listened to Voldemort's hissing voice, words indistinct but hatred bleeding clear.

"I need to see him," was all she told Fred. She didn't feel like putting any of it into words. But thankfully, Fred was the kind of person who knew when not to ask questions.

"Okay," he agreed. "Let's go."

He didn't try and talk her through it. He didn't give her lame advice like breathing or mindfulness. He just kept their arms linked and walked with her, letting her too know that she wasn't alone.

The door to the hospital wing was open when they arrived, and Fred kindly said nothing when Winona's hands began to tremble. "You ready?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Yeah," she breathed, and he unwound his arm from around hers to instead reach for her hand. He gripped her tight, squeezing thrice in quick succession, then gently let go and pushed her towards the door. She glanced back at him, a seed of panic in her heart. "I can't do it alone," she said, feet seeming welded to the floor.

"You can, Win," he promised her. "You don't need me to hold your hand. You're brave enough all on your own."

She hesitated. "How do you know?"

He grinned. "Because I know you."

He shooed her away, encouraging her through the massive double doors.

"Go on," he said confidently. "I'll wait out here for you."

"Nah," she told him, voice coming out a little bit hoarse. "You can head back. I just needed help getting all the way up here without chickening out."

Fred lifted a hand in a playful salute. "You know where to find me," he reminded her as he turned to leave.

Winona watched him go before turning to the gap between the doors. She took a deep breath into her lungs then stepped inside the dreaded hospital wing. Pomfrey was standing by the cabinet near the entrance, and the stern old witch looked up when Winona walked in.

"Um, I'm here to see Harry," Winona said, hands shoved deep into her pockets as she did her best not to panic.

Pomfrey eyed her suspiciously. "Name?"

Unsure why that mattered, she said, "Winona Andrews?"

Pomfrey nodded once. "Dumbledore said I was to let you through when you came," she said, somehow making the simple sentence sound threatening. "But Mr. Potter's to get as much rest as possible. If I find you overexciting him you'll be tossed out before you can say 'Skele-Gro'."

Winona just nodded in understanding. Satisfied her threats had worked, Pomfrey drew back one of the curtains surrounding a bed in the corner to reveal Harry himself. He looked perfectly healthy, sitting upright in his bed with a box of Bertie Bott's in his lap and a card held open by his face.

"Winnie," said Harry in surprise as she approached, apparently so distracted by his fan-mail that he hadn't heard her conversation with the healer outside. Pomfrey dragged shut the curtain wall once more, giving them some semblance of privacy, and Winona tried not to think about how claustrophobic she found herself feeling. "What're you doing here?"

"Facing my fears, apparently," she muttered, hiding her trembling hands in her pockets as she forced herself to take a seat by Harry's bedside.

"Huh?"

"I don't like hospitals," she told him, grimacing down at the bed like it were one of the reasons she loathed it here. "Never have."

"So then, why're you here?" asked Harry, sounding adorably confused.

"To see you, Boy-Wonder," she rolled her eyes. "I needed to see you were alive with me own two eyes. You can't trust the gossip mill in this place – half the student body still thinks I'm shagging the twins. Morons."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you start that rumour?"

"By accident," she argued defensively. "It was really all just a big misunderstanding." Harry laughed, and she figured she couldn't be upset while a kid in a hospital bed was laughing, so she put aside her indignation and focused on him. "You're really okay?" she asked gently once his chuckles petered off.

Harry sighed. "I s'pose you want to hear the story, too," he said tiredly.

"Not if you don't wanna tell it," she replied, and he looked up in surprise. "I already know most of what happened," she added, lifting a hand to tap at her forehead knowingly, "but if you feel like you need to talk about it, I'm happy to listen."

Harry seemed to consider her offer. "How much do you know?"

"In my vision Quirrell had his hands around your neck," she told him quietly. "I could smell smoke and You-Know-Who's voice was more of a hiss than anything else. I didn't see that much, but what I did was terrifying, and so I'm really, really happy that you're okay."

Harry let the silence drift a few moments more. "Sorry we didn't come to you before we went down the trap door," he said suddenly.

She waved the apology away. "I already spoke with Ron and Hermione. Don't sweat it."

Madam Pomfrey dropped something outside the curtains and Winona flinched at the sound. "You really don't like hospitals, do you?" he mused.

"Can't stand them."

"Why not?"

Winona pursed her lips, eyes drifting over the pile of goodies given to him by his legions adoring fans. "I'll tell you if I can have a Sugar Quill," she bargained. Harry grinned – far too brightly for someone who was just almost murdered, in her humble opinion – and picked up the container holding the Quills, offering them to her. She selected a purple one, then sank down in her uncomfortable chair to suck on it.

And the hospital wing was still an awful, sterile place that made her want to run far, far away. She was half convinced Doctors were going to appear from thin air, strap her to a bed and pump her full of drugs she didn't want. But the longer she stayed there, the less likely that seemed to happen.

Harry was watching her, patient and sweet, and Winona felt the bubble of anxiety in her chest begin to loose volume, shrinking and shrinking until it was barely there at all. She took another deep breath, kicked her feet up onto the edge of Harry's sterile bed, and began to talk.

A/N: Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We've come to the end of Philosopher's Stone, and are moving onto Chamber of Secrets in the next chapter. As we get deeper into the series, the amount of chapters to a book will grow, so don't worry, they won't all be squashed together like this.

The response I've been getting to this story has been great so far. I really love reading all your reviews, it makes me so happy to hear how you're liking it. I've seen some of you coming here after reading I Know Places and Heart of the Storm (my other more popular stories) and I wanted to thank you all for giving this one a try.

I'll see you all again soon!