"You want me to what?!"
"Come on, Winnie," the twins looked dangerously close to collapsing to their knees in desperation. "He'll never trust either of us to get close enough."
"Absolutely not."
"It won't be so bad, and it'll be completely worth it in the end!"
"You want me to steal Draco Malfoy's wand?" she said again, just to absolutely clarify that she understood.
"And replace it with this fake one we got from Zonko's," George confirmed, nodding eagerly.
"I'm not exactly a Pure-blood, so correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it against the law to mess with another wizard's wand?"
"Not against the law," he assured her blithely, nodding his head eagerly, like he had her on his line. "It's just...frowned upon."
Winona gave a sigh of great exhaustion, reaching up to rub at her temples.
"Come on, Win," Fred goaded her sweetly, only to ruin it with, "you've done way more illegal stuff than this!"
"So it is illegal," she exclaimed, pointing a finger at his face.
"Only slightly," said George as brightly as he could manage.
"Besides, don't pretend the illegal part scares you," snorted Fred blithely.
"Azkaban is a little different to Muggle juvie, Fred," she mumbled back, still rubbing her temples against the headache beginning to build there. "I think it's fair to say the stakes are a little higher."
"Come on, Win," he pleaded. "Don't you want to make him pay?"
"Of course I do!"
The twins didn't reply, staring back at her imploringly, begging her to agree, so sure there was no other way. She quite liked the idea of cornering him alone and beating him to a bloody pulp, but it lacked a certain finesse that the twins were so well known for. Also, Dumbledore was able to forgive a lot – especially considering her unique talent – but sending another kid to St Mungo's might be too much for even him to cover up.
"Fine," she sighed, pleasantly coerced, as usual. "But you forget one thing," she added, "he doesn't exactly trust me either. How am I meant to get close enough?"
"That's easy," the twins grinned at her widely, like it was glaringly obvious and she was dull for not seeing it instantly, "you'll use your feminine wiles!"
There was a lengthy pause in which Winona stared at them stonily, trying to figure out if they were taking the piss. "My feminine wiles?" she repeated slowly, making sure she'd heard them correctly.
"Yes!" they grinned like this was the most brilliant, sure-fire plan they'd ever devised.
Glancing down at herself in her lumpy, shapeless jumper and frumpy, paint-stained jeans, she looked back up, oozing incredulity. "I look like a homeless person," she said with a matter-of-fact huff.
"That's a bit harsh," Fred frowned.
"Don't you have a dress or something you can slip into?" George asked hopefully.
"Slip into?" she repeated in disbelief. Had everybody lost their bloody minds?
"Look, just smile at him," Fred said quickly, before her glare could fully form. "Trust me, one look at your smile and he'll be reduced to a puddle of goo," he assured her fervently. Both Winona and George turned to look at him dubiously.
"What?" she asked, bewildered by the strange compliment – because it was a compliment, wasn't it?
"Say something witty," he continued quickly, like nothing had happened, "you're good at that – tell him you like his hair, or something, then run your hand up his arm."
"That's really going to work?" she asked doubtfully, pushing Fred's odd behaviour from her mind, focusing on the task ahead.
"We're betting on him being thick as a brick wall, and randy to boot."
"Fair enough," she nodded, knowing enough about boys to know this to be true. "Okay," she said with great importance, standing straighter and reaching up to run her hands down her hair, making sure there were no tufts sticking out to make her look any more ridiculous than she already did. "Give it," she ordered, holding out a hand for the fake wand.
George dug in his pocket, producing the fake wand and placing it in her hand. It was cool to the touch, and felt awfully plastic-y for her tastes. She wasn't convinced this would work, but the twins had never not delivered on a revenge prank before, so she was inclined to trust them.
Fred whipped the the Marauder's Map out from his pocket, unfolding it and murmuring the magic words, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," before ink appeared across its surface like raindrops falling from nowhere.
"There he is," George said a minute later, thrusting a finger at the dot with the hovering words Draco Malfoy written above it. "Charms corridor."
"Stay out of sight until it's done," she instructed them sternly, already beginning to lead the way towards the slimy little git's location.
"As soon as you've switched the wands, get out of there," Fred warned her.
"That's my plan," she assured him, and they fell into silence as they turned the corner, the twins stepping back so they wouldn't be seen.
Malfoy was standing in front of a small, terrified looking Hufflepuff, a sneer on his pointed face.
"What are you going to do?" Goyle, who was standing just behind the Slytherin Prince along with Crabbe, goaded loudly, like this was the most clever thing he'd ever said in his life. "Are you going to cry?"
The Hufflepuff was trembling so hard she seemed to vibrate, and Winona felt terrible that she had to pretend not to care.
"What's going on here?" she asked loud enough for the Hufflepuff and the three Slytherins to hear, and they all turned to look at her as one. "My, my, Malfoy," she tutted, her expression relaxing into something mirroring coy mischief. "What have I stumbled upon?"
Malfoy sneered viciously, but she was careful to remain unimpressed. "Nothing to see here, Andrews," he told her, chest puffed out as though to make himself more intimidating. It only reminded her of a try-hard Percy, and she bit her lip to cover a smile.
She paid no attention to the ruffled goons behind him, who each gripped their wands. Hers was in her pocket and she was more than confident that she could take on two thick-headed, second-year Slytherins if it came down to it. Meandering closer to Malfoy, she smiled at him like Fred had suggested. He was rightfully bewildered by the unexpected expression.
"You know, Malfoy," she began, getting closer but remaining unthreatening. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have no idea how to react, shifting awkwardly behind their idiotic leader, exchanging looks of confusion. "I always did like the way you just...took charge," she said in a low tone, and the twins were right about him being as thick as a brick, because a glint of smug pride appeared in his cold, steel coloured eyes. She was close now, and she reached out, running a hand up his robe-covered arm. His eyes widened, and he didn't seem to know how to react.
His pocket was right by her hand, and she stepped closer still, trying not to inhale his scent – he smelled of some kind of cologne, but badly, like he'd dumped the entire bottle onto his skin in an effort to mask the stench of death that clung to him and his awful personality.
He stared at her with wide eyes that she might almost call panicked, and he was so distracted by the bewildering interaction that he didn't even notice her slipping her hand into his pocket, grabbing his wand and gently withdrawing it, slipping the fake one inside before stepping back with another too-wide smile.
"Oi, Malfoy!" the twins were suddenly there, glaring furiously at Malfoy, their own wands out in front of them threateningly. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!"
"What?" Malfoy didn't look angry, he just looked bewildered, unable to keep up with what was happening around him. If Winona was a better person, she might have even pitied him. But she wasn't, and she didn't.
"We saw you all over our girl, here!" Fred shouted, aiming a Leek Jinx at Goyle. Winona leapt out of the way, looking back in time to see leeks sprout from the smarmy git's too-large ears.
Letting out a yelp, Malfoy reached into his pocket, yanking out the fake wand, in too much of a panic to notice it wasn't his proper one, and yelling a hex in the twins' direction.
Only, instead of either of them growing antlers, as the caster had intended, the wand backfired, much like Ron's had the few days before on the Quidditch Pitch. Malfoy let out a cry, dropping the wand and lifting his hands, which were now covered in large, red, bulbous boils that were spreading along his arms and across his neck, creeping up over his freakishly pale face.
Crabbe let out a stream of expletives, lifting his own wand to fire a hex at the twins, which they blocked with laughable ease, sending back a Sardine Hex that had the tiny little fish flying from the Slytherin's nose like bullets.
"What did you do?!" Malfoy shouted, staring down at his hands in horror.
"Taught you a lesson, I'd say," George said casually, nodding at Winona, who quickly produced the Slytherin's wand, quietly placing it on the ground before she could be caught holding it.
"You ever use that kind of foul language against one of our friends again, and you'll get worse than a face full of boils," Fred warned, and Malfoy let out a sound that sounded more like a squeal than a roar.
"Time to go," Winona told the twins, stepping closer and beginning to push them away from the scene of the crime, hearing the faint sound of voices echoing down the corridor over. "You might want to get that looked at, you pus-faced prick," she added, and Malfoy let out another yell of outrage before she pushed the twins around the corner, forcing him out of sight, leaving them with satisfied grins stretched across their faces.
"This Potions homework is ridiculous," Fred was complaining as they wound their way up from the dungeons. The rest of their class chattered around them, everyone eagerly heading towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Revision of the Sleeping Draught? Talk about condescending – we've had this mastered since second year!"
"Big talk from someone who failed that exam," George sniped cheekily. Fred groaned, giving his brother a shove before they both broke out in sniggers. "Need help going over the revision?" George asked Winona, who was walking beside them, head in the clouds as they bickered.
"Nah," she responded, snapping back to the moment. "I can handle an essay on its properties…hopefully."
"Well, just ask – we all know…"
George's voice faded away, replaced by a sort of rushing sound, like the rapid surging of water. Winona felt her feet come to a stop, and she held her breath, somewhere in her mind believing that if she opened her mouth it would be flooded by the running water seeming to streak past her face too quickly to comprehend.
Vaguely, she could hear the voices of reality around her, and in a flash of conscious horror realised what was happening, and exactly where she was and the amount of people she was surrounded by.
In her last conscious effort, she threw out her arms, hoping to grasp onto one of the twins and anchor her to the real world. Then, she was swept away by the river.
Images flashed across her eyes, so quickly they made her head ache. A pair of hissing fangs, glistening with drops of ivory venom; the silvery glint of a sword, a ruby stone set into the hilt; red letters, smeared across a wall, written in blood. It said something, something important, something bad, but she couldn't make it out. The sound of the water got louder, and if she'd been able to feel her arms, she would have raised her hands up to cover her ears against the roar.
She was jolted from the horrific future and back to the present with a startling gasp, dropping the hard instruments clasped in a white-knuckled grip, reaching a hand up to her chest as she painfully sucked in air, feeling like she hadn't taken a good breath in days.
Her eyesight came back in blotches and she blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the two bodies knelt in front of her.
Fred and George were staring at her in worry, their mouths moving but no sound coming out, and as she wheezed desperately, she took in where they were. The twins had stuffed her into an abandoned classroom, desks stacked up against one wall, the stone floor dusty and cold.
"Win," Fred was saying when her hearing finally came back to her, the sound of rushing water slowly receding, leaving her ears stinging when met with the crushing silence of the empty classroom. "Win, talk to us," he said, one hand gently braced on her knee, squeezing in a comforting pressure.
"I'm all right," she assured them, sucking in another breath, the air seeming to burn at her starved lungs. "I'm all right," she repeated, trying to convince herself.
"That was a bad one," George said with a forced grin, attempting to keep things lighthearted. Fred just continued to frown at her, overflowing with concern.
"We got you out of sight," Fred promised her, deciphering her look of alarm as she considered that people might have witnessed such an event. "You nearly started scratching at the floor, but we got a pencil in your hand just in time," he added with something of a weak chuckle that didn't reach his eyes.
Turning her attention to the things she had dropped into her lap, she gingerly picked up her sketchbook, blinking tiredly down at the image hastily scribbled onto the paper in silvery graphite.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
It was the words, the ones that she had seen written in blood. During the vision she hadn't been able to read it, but apparently her hands never got the message and wrote it down anyway.
She'd never written words before, it had always been pictures; though she supposed this was a little of both, as underneath the thick letters was the ornate detailing of one of Hogwarts' many corridors.
"What does that even mean?" George had tilted his head to the left in an effort to read the words sketched messily onto the paper, frowning down at them in confusion. Fred had finally let go of her knee, that pensive, concerned expression never leaving his face as he continued to watch her like a hawk, as though worried she were about to keel over, headfirst into the floor.
"I don't know," she answered him, her voice hoarse. She lifted a hand to rub gently at her sore throat. "But I think I need to go and see Dumbledore," she said, feeling her head spin like she'd just gotten off a terrible carnival ride. "Right now."
The twins stood, Fred offering out a hand that she gratefully took. He pulled her gently to her feet and she wobbled only slightly, her legs weak from the force of the vision.
"Come on," Fred said, and George knelt down to swipe up her belongings, slipping them back into her messenger bag and threading it over his shoulder. Fred wound his arm through hers, gently urging her from the classroom, keeping her propped against him like he didn't trust her to walk on her own. They'd missed lunch, judging by the time, but the twins didn't once complain.
Winona wanted to voice her gratitude and assure them they didn't need to walk her to the Headmaster's office, but she knew they'd only tell her off for being stupid, so kept her lips sealed.
She caught the twins exchanging looks over her head, communicating silently as they did. She didn't care to try and decipher the message, instead leaning tiredly against Fred and allowing them to lead her through the castle.
"Want us to come up with you?" they offered when they came to a stop outside the large, looming gargoyle that protected the entrance to the lavish office the Headmaster resided in.
"No," she told them quickly, knowing Dumbledore would rather it just be her – he never had liked the fact that the twins knew of her ability. "Go down to the kitchens. I'll meet you there when I'm done," she said, using what little strength she had to shoo them in the direction of the stairs that would lead to the elf-filled kitchens of the castle. "Ask the Elves to leave me out a plate of pie," she added. The twins smiled at her predictable request.
"You're okay?" Fred checked before he left, and she nodded. "Positive?"
"Positive," she confirmed as cheerfully as she was able, and although he didn't look terribly convinced, he still nodded. George handed over her messenger bag and the pair turned to leave. "Boys?" she spoke up, and they turned back to look at her. "Thank you," she said with the utmost sincerity. They smiled at her, giving cheeky little salutes and heading back down the corridor.
With a deep inhale, Winona turned to the intimidating gargoyle, who seemed to glare down at her intently.
"Ice Mice," she said, grimacing at the thought of the disgusting excuse for candy that Dumbledore had chosen as his password, and a moment later the gargoyle had leapt out of the way, exposing a circular, moving staircase which she hopped onto with practised ease.
The doors to Dumbledore's office stood tall and grandiose, and she'd only just lifted a still-trembling hand to knock when the Headmaster's voice drifted out from inside. "Enter."
Tentatively pushing the doors open, Winona slipped inside. It was warmer inside the office, a fire blazing in the fireplace against the far wall, and she realised she hadn't noticed how cold she was until she felt the heat of its flames.
"Good afternoon, Miss Andrews," Dumbledore greeted her pleasantly from where he was standing by one of his many towering bookshelves, a thick tome held in aged hands. He shut it abruptly, slipping it back into place on the shelf near his head and turning to her with a smile. "What can I do for you?"
"I have a…rather alarming sketch to show you, sir," she told him without preamble, one hand clutching tightly to the strap of her bag, watching as interest ignited in the old warlock's eyes before he nodded calmly, sweeping out a hand in the direction of his comfortable looking chairs on the closer side of his large, golden desk.
The Headmaster took his seat on the other side, hands folded in front of him as he waited patiently for her to explain. Swallowing, Winona reached into her satchel, pulling out her thick sketchbook. It was still open to the recently used page, and with a deep breath she handed it over to Dumbledore whose expression went from pleasantly curious to frighteningly dark.
"When did you draw this?" he asked, voice cool and calculated.
"Just now," she replied nervously. "Professor, what does it mean?" she asked, unable to stand not knowing. "I've never written down words before," she added quietly, casting his familiar, the brilliantly red phoenix, Fawkes, a glance. He was asleep, head cocked as he dozed.
"I'm not sure," the Headmaster said, but she knew deep in her gut that this wasn't the truth. Feeling unable to argue, she could only nod like a good little student, turning her stare to her hands. "I think, instead of merely copying this particular sketch, I will take the original – if that's alright with you," he informed her calmly; she got the distinct impression that he wasn't asking.
"Yes, sir," she replied, without choice.
"Do you have any idea of when this will come to pass?" he asked casually, gently tearing out the page with the sketch and shutting her book, handing it back with a nod.
"None, Professor," she answered him honestly. She rarely knew when her visions would happen, and that was sometimes the most frustrating part.
"I must ask you not to tell anyone of what you have seen, Winona."
Confused, Winona looked up. These were already her standing orders, why would anything have changed? Though bewildered by the stern command, she nodded her head respectfully, agreeing. The twins already knew, but there was nothing that could be done about that now.
In this moment her stomach rumbled. Dumbledore looked at her with smiling eyes over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "You should head down to the kitchens and get yourself a bite to eat," he suggested, and panicking, Winona shook her head.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir," she said as innocently as she could. Students weren't technically allowed in the kitchens, but should she have really been surprised that he knew she was a frequent visitor of them?
Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes twinkled down at her, "of course you don't," he replied airily, and she nodded in vaguely amused agreement, standing to her feet and turning to leave the room. She paused by the door, casting a look back at her enigmatic Headmaster.
He was smiling no longer, staring down at her glimpse into the future with a furrowed brow and a grim expression. Her insides suddenly felt strangely like ice.
The twins were in the kitchens, just as they'd said they'd be, and she made a beeline to them, having to dodge the little elves scurrying around like their backsides were on fire. Her friends were sat at a table by the fire, mugs of steaming hot chocolate in their hands as they murmured between themselves, the serious expressions from before now gone, replaced by easy, familiar smiles.
"Winnie!" they called as she approached, and Fred pushed a third mug of hot chocolate across the polished wood table. "How'd it go with good old Albus?" Fred asked without pausing, taking a sip of his drink, leaving a small moustache of foam sitting on his upper lip.
She met George's eyes and both silently agreed not to mention it. "It was strange," she replied, taking a delicate sip of her own, humming at the pleasant warmth that trickled through her insides. "I've never seen him so sombre about a sketch before."
Not even when I drew his own cold, lifeless corpse, she added in her head, knowing that was just about the only thing that she wouldn't tell the twins. That was Dumbledore's business, she didn't want to overstep by sharing it. Then again, she wasn't the expert on the etiquette surrounding premonitions of one's death, so she couldn't be certain.
"Did he say anything about what it meant?" George questioned eagerly.
"Nothing," she said with a sigh of disappointment just as Killy appeared beside them, a tray full of steaming apple pie balanced on her bony little hand.
Fred and George greeted the House Elf with cheers, and she smiled bashfully before handing over the treat and some forks to eat it with. "Thank you, Killy," Winona said gratefully. The elf gave something of a grin before squeaking her happiness and scurrying off to tend to the dwindling fire.
"Can't be that bad, surely," Fred said optimistically, his milk moustache still in place, making Winona grin into her mug. "Maybe it's a prank. Some wannabe who aspires to reach our level of infamy?"
"And a bad prank at that," George grimaced around a mouthful of pie. "Probably a Hufflepuff."
Winona tutted, reaching out to slap him on the arm. Laughing loudly, he flinched away from her just as Fred caught sight of his reflection in his spoon and indignantly began to yell at them for not telling him about the milk on his face. This only sent the others into fits of further hysteria, and it gave Winona hope.
Yeah, bad things were going to happen – she was going to keep having violent visions of awful things, and these terrible things were going to eventually come to pass. But she also knew, above all else, that the twins would always be there to help her laugh the darkness away. And maybe, if she was very, very lucky, it wouldn't swallow her whole.
"Check out what we scored!" Fred's voice interrupted her humming and she looked up from her rough sketch of the castle, seeing him standing over her, holding a bright orange lizard in a firm grip, a grin sitting comfortably on his face as the little thing struggled in his hand.
It was the beginning of October, a week or two after the whole 'fake-wand' incident. Malfoy had taken to glowering at them any time they were in the same room, but other than that, they had yet to see any consequences for their actions. Just how they liked it.
Winona liked to think this was karma – Malfoy had deserved what he got and more, after all.
It was also that long since Winona's less than pleasant vision regarding the message written in blood. She hadn't spoken to Dumbledore since giving him the sketch, and whenever she saw him – which wasn't often, maybe twice a week at mealtimes – nothing appeared to be amiss. So she kept her worries to herself, knowing that confronting him for more information probably wouldn't end well for her in the long run.
"A lizard?" she asked Fred, coming back to the present when she felt the weight of his expectant stare.
"A salamander," he corrected, and George appeared over his shoulder, an eager look in his light blue eyes.
"Rescued it from Care of Magical Creatures," he added with an impish grin.
"Bloody heroes, you two are," she murmured sarcastically, but it was like water off a duck's back for all the good it did. They beamed as though she'd paid them a sincere compliment. "Go on, then," she prompted with the sigh of an overworked carer, gently setting aside her sketching instruments and turning her full attention to them. "What's it for?"
"Thought we'd stuff this Filibuster down its throat, see what happens," Fred told her heedlessly, twisting the thing in his grip so he could get a better look at it.
"Won't that hurt it?"
"Nah," George assured her. "It's a fire-dweller, so the heat won't do anything."
Knowing nothing she could say was going to stop them anyway, she rolled her eyes, kind of curious about where this was going to go. "Alright then," she said with a huff, but nevertheless leaned forwards, watching idly as Fred fed the small firework to the slightly larger lizard, the thing gobbling it down like it were an insect it found delicious.
A small group of third years wandered over, drawn in by the now gently smouldering salamander. Murmurs ran throughout the tiny crowd as they watched, part curious, part terrified, unable to look away from the simmering creature displayed on the table in the corner of the room.
"What'd you feed it?" asked a girl with freckled skin and a rather unfortunate bowl-cut.
"A Filibuster," the twins told her, and she paled as she glanced back down at the poor thing.
Suddenly, the salamander whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The twins erupted into shouts of glee and the younger girls in the common room gave shrieks of undeserved terror. A group of sixth years descending the stairs abruptly turned and made their way back up them, probably deciding it wasn't worth the trouble once they'd heard Percy's outcry of indignation.
Winona was able to easily tune him out – she'd had a lot of practise over the years – and instead focused on the tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, the thing wiggling wildly before finally dropping to the rug with a muted thud.
Scrambling away before anybody could get their hands on it again, it escaped into the fire with another loud explosion of sparks, but Winona was pleased to see it remained mostly unharmed, although probably more than a little bit irked.
Percy had yet to finish yelling, screeching himself hoarse, threatening to go to McGonagall if they didn't 'pull themselves into line'. The twins only rolled their eyes, taking no notice and bending their heads to discuss their next order of business.
October passed in a blur. Every now and then, Adam would search her out and they'd walk through the school. He would talk most of the time, Winona got the feeling he really liked having someone to speak to about the schoolwork and his friends in Ravenclaw he was having issues with. She let him yammer, unbothered by his talking. He had a nice voice, and she usually drifted off when he spoke anyway, committing the things she saw to memory to try and recreate on paper later.
As it grew closer to Halloween, their walks became more frequent, and Winona slowly began to realised just how much he was talking. She wondered if it was meant to be this way – relationships and the like. She didn't exactly have anything to compare it to.
They were on their way to the Halloween feast when she realised maybe something about their time together wasn't quite right.
"What did you usually do for Halloween, back at home?" Adam asked her as they slowly made their way towards the Great Hall. The entrance hall was overflowing with people, the students bottlenecked in their excitement to get to the feast. "Before you came to Hogwarts, I mean?"
He'd just finished telling her of his family's long standing tradition of a chocolate treasure hunt, and Winona had listened, humming at all the appropriate moments. He seemed to become suddenly self-aware, realising he'd been jabbering on without giving her a chance to respond. She distantly wished that might happen more often.
"Oh, nothing, really," she shrugged. "None of the foster parents I've had in the past particularly cared for the holiday."
Adam fell silent, and when she looked over at him it was to find him blinking in surprise. "You live with foster parents?" he finally asked, confused.
Now she was the one surprised. "Well, yeah," she frowned deeply, wondering why this had come as a shock – surely he knew her family situation. They had to have spoken about it at some point. Right? "After my parents died, I didn't have any family left to take me in, so I was put in the Muggle foster system."
Adam was still frowning. "Your parents died?"
Winona didn't know what to say for a moment, staring at him wordlessly. They'd made it to the doors of the Great Hall but had come to a stop just inside, forcing the other students to walk around them. "Yeah," she said again, bewildered by the whole conversation. "They were killed by Death Eaters in the War."
He didn't seem to know how he was supposed to respond, but Winona certainly couldn't help, even more lost than he was. How could they have been hanging out every other day for a month and he not know these things about her? Had he really been talking so much she hadn't once been able to tell him the basic details of her life?
Adam seemed to suddenly be wondering the same thing. With his cheeks a soft pink, he awkwardly said, "sorry to hear that."
Winona blinked. "Thanks," she muttered, just as uncomfortable. "Well, I'm gonna go eat…" she said, gesturing to the Gryffindor table where her friends were already seated, laughing over something or other.
"Yeah, me too," he told her, stilted.
Winona pursed her lips. "See you," she said, turning and melting into the crowd, heading for her friends.
"There you are!" Fred crowed as she slid into the spot beside him. George looked up from the chicken wing he'd charmed to dance across his plate. "Where've you been all afternoon?" Fred asked, suspicious.
"Nowhere," she said, distracted as she used the large serving spoon to dish herself out some shepherd's pie.
"She was with Adam," Lee singsonged across from her. "Get some good snogging in?" he asked playfully.
Winona barely heard him, staring down at her food, lost in thought. "Win?" asked George. "Did you spill pumpkin juice on your sketchbook again?"
When she didn't answer, Fred nudged her gently in the ribs. She looked up, blinking in surprise. "Oh, um, no," she said stiltedly. "Just didn't get much sleep is all."
She forced a yawn that seemed to convince them, and they all turned back to whatever they'd been doing before she arrived.
The feast seemed to go a lot slower than usual, with Winona stuck inside her own head, wondering what exactly she'd gotten herself into with Adam. Her friends tried to pull her out of her funk, but she was stubbornly unaffected, and eventually they just left her to sulk.
"Come on," Fred prompted her as Dumbledore gave his final remarks and the feast wound to an end. Winona yawned again, this time for real, as she climbed off the bench and allowed the twins to lead her from the Gryffindor table and towards the doors of the Great Hall. "Try not to stay up all night drawing again, yeah?" he laughed, hooking an arm around her neck and dragging her playfully along.
"Don't tell me how to live my life," she muttered back, and Fred gave a bark of laughter in return.
They turned back to the walkway, only to very nearly run straight into the back of another student. "What's the holdup?" George called ahead, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard over the chattering of the large crowd gathered in the hallway for no apparent reason.
Like a tingle of electricity, Winona knew, she just knew what was happening.
Without waiting for her friends, she spied a gap in the throng of students and ducked through it, ruthlessly shoving her way to the front. "Win!" Fred called after her, but she ignored him, single-minded in her task.
When she finally laid eyes on what was bottlenecking the students, she'd almost wished she hadn't. Then again, she was beginning to learn the future was very unavoidable indeed. There, on the wall, written in glinting, bloody letters, read the words:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
And that wasn't even the worst part; the worst part was Harry, standing right beneath a frozen Mrs Norris, a look of panicked horror stretched across his boyish features, shoulders slumped with the weight of the accusing eyes of the whole school staring down at him.
Winona shut her eyes and cussed.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware!"
Draco Malfoy's words echoed in the starkly silent hallway as he read off the wall. Every single student in the corridor seemed to be holding their breath.
"You'll be next, Mudbloods!" the Slytherin added with a disdainful drawl, casting a withering glare at Hermione who very nearly flinched at the sight of his cold eyes.
"What's going on here?" an even more unwelcome voice sneered, and the grunting of students met her ears as they were roughly pushed out of the way by a chronically-rude Filch. He shoved past Winona with a snarl, and she winced as he stepped out into the middle of the group, where the blood writing and his dead cat lay in perfect view. "What's going on?" he growled, beady little eyes scanning the crowd for an explanation.
Although nobody answered – nobody even so much as breathed – he found the body of his cat anyway, his narrowed eyes going wide in pure, unadulterated horror.
"My cat! My cat!" he wailed, whirling around for an explanation, fat tears gathering in his lizard-like eyes. "What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked, demanding an answer. "You!" he screeched at Harry, just as Winona knew he would. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll —"
"Argus!" a calm but commanding voice swept over the crowd, interrupting the glorified janitor's wild death threats.
Dumbledore glided onto the scene, a small army of teachers following close behind. Calmly, the Headmaster reached for the frozen cat, unhooking her from the torch bracket and turning to go.
"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."
Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore without feeling, turning to go. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.
This left Professors Flitwick and Sprout standing in the overflowing corridor, looking momentarily out of their depth, before finding their feet and calling as calmly as they could, "everyone is to return to their common rooms at once!"
Finally the students' silence broke, the hallway filling with gossipy whispers. Flitwick began ushering people from the scene, his tiny stature struggling to gain some of the taller students' attention.
Winona could only stare at the blood smeared wall, her mouth dry as her mind raced. Had there been something she could have done to save Mrs Norris? Sure, the feral little thing was a pest, but she hadn't deserved to die.
Fingers threaded through hers and she knew from the familiar calloused warmth that it belonged to Fred. He didn't say anything, probably knowing there was nothing he could say. Instead he merely began to drag her in the other direction, taking the longer route to Gryffindor Tower.
Winona clung to her best friend like he were the only thing keeping her afloat – that was how it felt, anyway – like she were lost at sea and he was her life raft.
She clutched both her hands around his one, reassured by the gentle pressure as they wound their way through the thick but slowly dispersing crowd. It wasn't until they were halfway to the common room that she realised George was there too, on her other side, standing guard, as though whomever it was to have written that message might come after her next.
She appreciated the protective gesture, but she knew, deep in her gut, that she wasn't the one in danger.
If only she could figure out who was.
"Listen, we wrote to Charlie the other week," Fred began once they were safely inside their common room, huddled in the far corner around a deep red armchair, a small pile of chocolate frogs from Winona's private stash sat before them.
"That's nice," Winona said distractedly, halfheartedly nibbling on the end of a frog, staring off out the window, feeling as though her body was there with them, but her mind was a million miles away.
"Listen," George said imploringly, reaching up to give her shoulder a tiny shake, snapping her from her daze. She blinked at them in foggily. "We wrote to him about the Chamber of Secrets," he murmured, keeping his voice low so nobody nearby would overhear.
Interest piqued, Winona turned to look at the pair, watching as Fred tugged a crumpled piece of parchment free from his pocket. "We got a reply this morning," he told her quietly.
"What's it say?" she asked, eager. She was expecting them to paraphrase for her, but instead Fred simply held out the letter, gesturing for her to take it and read it herself.
Fred and George,
Yeah, it's going well – been thinking I...
Winona skipped the pleasantries and smalltalk, scanning the letter for the good stuff.
Chamber of Secrets, huh? Can't believe that rumour is still going round! I'm sure any of the older kids or more gullible teachers would be happy to tell you, but I'll give you the basics.
Legend said Salazar Slytherin built a Chamber deep within the school, and that only his true heir would be able to get inside. It was said there was a monster hidden within, and the heir would be able to control this monster to 'cleanse' the school of those not born with 'pure-blood'.
I know, ridiculous, right? But it is a good story to use when you want to scare the kids. Oh, and don't you dare go looking for it! I know what you're like, and you'll only get yourselves into trouble. Granted, it's probably not real, but if there is a giant monster hidden in Hogwarts, I doubt it wants to be poked with a stick by two idiots like yourselves.
Tell Winona I said hi, and remind her that you're both still more trouble than you're worth!
Give my love to Percy, Ron and Ginny (I hear she got into Gryffindor! Give her a hug for me)
-Charlie.
Winona put down the letter, the crease in her brow so deep that it was giving her a headache. "A monster?" she said, stormy grey eyes shifting from one twin to the other. "In a secret chamber, hidden deep within the castle, that can be used to kill muggle-borns and half-bloods?"
The twins didn't look thrilled either.
"Brilliant," she muttered sardonically, handing the letter back to Fred and slumping into the squishy cushions of the armchair they were all piled on, returning her attention to her half-eaten chocolate frog.
"I mean, it's probably not real," George said realistically.
"Don't try and tell me you two don't want it to be real," she glared at them, daring them to lie. She knew them far too well to be fooled by that.
"Well, obviously we don't want the 'killing anyone who isn't pure-blooded' thing to be real," Fred said defensively. "But you've gotta admit, a secret chamber, created by one of the founders, inside the castle? It doesn't get any cooler than that!"
Winona was too exhausted to argue, rolling her eyes at their childish excitement and continuing to nibble on her stash of hoarded chocolate.
"Have you heard what they're saying?!"
Neville had appeared in front of them, a strange look on his face, the expression torn between shock and terror.
"You'll have to be more specific," George replied.
"They're saying Harry's the rightful heir of Salazar Slytherin!" Neville squeaked, mortified, like he couldn't stomach the thought of sharing a dorm with Slytherin's murderous heir.
"Don't listen to them, Neville," Winona told him sternly. "You're better than that." The kid didn't look so convinced. "Look me in the eye and tell me you believe Harry's the evil descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Tell me you think he's capable of murder."
Neville suddenly looked ashamed for having caved to the gossip.
"Good lad," she nodded, propping a hand on each twin's knee and pushing herself from where she was squished in between them. She reaching out, slapping Neville gently on the back. The kid only grimaced, looking uncomfortable under the attention. Showing mercy, she turned back to the twins, scooping up two thirds of her chocolate pile.
"Hey!" they cried, indignant. "We weren't done with those."
"Get your own," she said, and the pair huffed, affronted. "You could both do to lay off the sweets, you know!" she added over her shoulder as she turned to head for the girls' staircase. "Don't want Wood finding out and making you run laps to burn them off!"
The twins let out spluttered cries of indignation from behind her while Neville just looked completely bewildered by the strange encounter. Winona tossed him a playful wink as she passed, making a beeline for the stairs, the shower and her favourite pyjamas calling to her.
The night wasn't as relaxing as she'd hoped; she was kept awake by the sinking feeling that something just wasn't right.
Now that she knew there to – supposedly – be a giant monster hiding within the school, it seemed like every noise she heard was connected to this faceless, ominous creature. Around midnight she lit her wand and started sketching until finally her exhaustion won out and she fell asleep, slumped over her sketchbook, her pencil held in a white-knuckled grip that only eased once she was lost in a deep slumber.
The next day, Winona was wandering from the library where she'd been studying with Angelina and Alicia, both of whom had given up trying to get her to pay attention and, to put it nicely, 'asked' her to leave.
This happened a few times every semester, so much so that it was almost tradition. Winona didn't mind much, heading away from the library's corridor and making her way towards the Great Hall where dinner would be starting in a half hour. She could sketch until the food appeared, and the thought made her feel peaceful.
That was until her path was suddenly blocked by a red-eyed Ginny, the littlest Weasley staring up at her wetly. "Ginny?" Winona asked in surprise, tensing as she whirled around, looking for the source of the girl's tears. "What's wrong?"
If it was Malfoy and his lackeys, they'd be getting worse than a face full of boils and leeks from their ears, that was for certain.
"Can we talk?" Ginny murmured, voice quiet and unsure. The sound of it pulled Winona from her defensive rage, turning to look at Ginny closely, noting the hesitance in her expression.
"Of course, Ginger," Winona said affectionately, getting the sense that the small redhead was in need of all the affection she could offer. Winona slipped an arm around the younger girl's shoulder, gently prodding her in the direction of the courtyard, which was surprisingly empty for the time of day.
Ginny came to a stop by a bench near the fountain, and Winona sat down, dropping her bag of standard art supplies to the ground with a thud. She was curious, wanting to ask what was wrong, but she knew she couldn't push. She had to let Ginny come to her.
"Do you think Ron and H-Harry are going to get expelled?" she finally asked, voice smaller than Winona had ever heard it.
"I know they're not," she replied instantly, pulling her legs up onto the stone bench and folding them beneath her.
Ginny's red eyes narrowed. "How can you know?" she asked, doubtful.
"Maybe I can see the future," she said slyly, and Ginny shot her a disgruntled look, telling her to 'please be serious'. She smirked, finding it ironic how easy it was to be honest and still not have a single person believe you. "Or," she said, shuffling closer to the redhead so she could nudge her lightly, "maybe I know Dumbledore is a smart wizard, who knowsneitherHarry, Ron, nor Hermione could have done such a thing. He'd be crazy to expel them; they've done nothing wrong."
Ginny was silent for a long while. "Who do you think did do it?" she asked almost silently, like she was almost too afraid to ask the question aloud.
Winona considered the young first year carefully, taking in her sallow, waxy complexion and scared, tired eyes.
"I don't know," she finally answered her, getting the strangest feeling that Ginny knew something. But what that something was, she couldn't have guessed. "Are you okay, Ginny?" Winona asked the youngest Weasley gently, lighthearted smile falling into something more serious, concern lacing the expression.
There seemed to be several emotions warring on the girl's young, pretty face, the indecision bleeding out.
"You can tell me anything, you know," she reminded the young girl, reaching out to press a comforting hand to her shoulder. "Anything, and it'll never get back to your brothers."
Ginny snorted, just for a second seeming like usual self. "Not even Fred?" she asked skeptically, and while Winona wasn't sure why she'd singled out Fred alone, she still shook her head.
"If it's something you don't want anyone to know, it will never leave this bench," she swore, and the smaller girl looked immensely grateful. She opened her mouth, prepared to say something, only to cut herself off suddenly, returning her gaze to her hands, something like frustration on her face. "It's alright," Winona assured her quietly as a group of seventh years ambled passed them, laughing at some lewd joke the tallest had made about Professor Flitwick and a pineapple that shan't be repeated. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she reminded her once the rowdy bunch were gone. "I'll always be here, and so will your brothers."
Ginny attempted a smile, but she couldn't quite pull it off.
"Wanna walk to dinner with me?" Winona asked cheerfully, slapping her hands against her legs before climbing to her feet. "If we see Malfoy we can Bat-Bogey Hex him until he cries."
"What's a Bat-Bogey Hex?" Ginny asked curiously. Winona grinned back impishly.
"I've a feeling you're gonna like this one, Ginger..."
A/N: So I've had a few questions about Winona and her decision making in recent chapters. Winona, although mature in some ways, is wildly immature in others. She grew up without any examples of healthy relationships in her life, without any other women to guide her, or get advice from.
She's approaching romance like someone who knows what it's supposed to look like, so she thinks she's doing it right. I love her, but unfortunately, Winona is emotionally damaged. That's not to say she can't grow and heal – which she will – she just has a whole lot of growing to do.
Hope you enjoyed!