Winona woke up the next day feeling a hell of a lot better than when she'd gone to sleep. She supposed the value of a good rest really was priceless, especially when you rarely got one. She was still kind of grouchy, however, from the whole incident on the train with those…things.
The feast the night before had been great, and they found out that not only had Hagrid taken over as the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was announced.
Professor Lupin appeared frail, like a particularly strong gust of wind would cause him to keel over, but his eyes held a surprising warmth, and Winona had known instantly that she would like him and his class.
She walked down to breakfast, listening to Angelina talk about her summer, her overflowing messenger bag bumping against her hip with every step. "And my Aunt Jenny said she'd be sending me that new perfume I like for my birthday," she said happily, and Winona nodded, idly wishing she had an aunt to send her perfume for her birthday.
They took seats in the middle of the Gryffindor table, opposite the twins, who were inhaling bowls of porridge. "Snape looks more hateful than usual, wouldn't you say?" Winona asked with a glance up at the teacher's table, beginning to pull bacon and pancakes onto her plate.
Snape was scowling into his eggs with complete and utter loathing, and Winona wished she knew what was brilliant enough to make him that annoyed. The twins would want to bottle it.
"Here you are, Mr Weasley," McGonagall appeared by their side, handing out schedules. "Miss Andrews, Miss Johnson, Mr Weasley...and hand these out to Granger, Weasley and Potter, will you?" she finished as she placed a small stack on the table, then turned and walked further down the table without so much as a murmured farewell.
"Good old Minnie," Fred grinned. "Always so reliable."
"Give you two Sickles to call her Minnie to her face in class," Winona said impishly. Fred's grin only swelled.
"Deal."
Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared then, taking a seat to the left of George, who was just sipping his apple juice. "New third-year course schedules," he said once he'd swallowed, passing the stack of parchment over.
Winona noticed the forlorn expression Harry was wearing, and concern flooded her. "Everything all right, Harry?" she asked softly, and George finally paid enough attention to look at him more closely.
"What's up, short stuff?" he asked jovially, but Harry's frown only deepened.
"Malfoy," answered Ron from where he sat on his brother's other side.
Winona turned in her seat quickly enough to see Malfoy pretending to faint. "Why's he doing that?" she asked, spinning back to frown at the others in confusion.
Ron and the twins all suddenly looked awkward. "Well, you see, with the whole dementor attack…" Ron said slowly.
"Spit it out, Freckles," Winona said dangerously, stormy eyes sliding over each of them as she impatiently waited for a response.
"Harry passed out," Hermione spoke up, rolling her eyes as she realised nobody else wanted to tell her.
"He what?" she hissed, whirling around to pin Harry with a concerned scare. "What happened? Are you okay? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Probably because they knew you'd react like that," Angelina chuckled into her pumpkin juice. Winona took the time to shoot her friend a sour stare before looking back at Harry, whose eyes were on his breakfast, cheeks a soft red.
She knew Harry didn't like to have things made a fuss about, so she reigned in her concern and simply asked, "all right, Boy-Wonder?"
"Yeah," he promised, looking up to meet her eyes, silently assuring her that he was fine.
"Look Harry, Malfoy's a little git," George said calmly, and Winona got the feeling Harry was relieved for the distraction. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"
"Nearly wet himself," confirmed Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.
"I wasn't too happy myself," added George. "They're horrible things, those dementors…"
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?"
"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice, bitter as he scowled down at his plate.
"Forget it, Harry," George told him bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking...they suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."
"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"
Harry seemed to perk up at the thought, helping himself to more food, and the twins looked pleased by their success.
Winona went back to eating her breakfast, trying not to worry about Harry, telling herself that he was perfectly fine. The protective instinct she felt for the kid was surprising, but that's what it was: an instinct. She wasn't about to stop listening to it for normality sake.
She listened as Ron began quizzing Hermione about her overloaded schedule, but Hermione brushed him off. Winona was the only one who knew the truth – that she had a Time Turner on loan from the Ministry in order to attend all her classes. It had been Winona herself to warn Dumbledore that it would be necessary.
She decided not to tell Hermione that she knew, the girl had enough on her plate without worrying about Winona knowing her secret.
The fifth years had Potions first, something Winona couldn't have been more sour about. She pouted the whole way there, her bag dragging behind her along the uneven stone floor, the contents clacking together with every bump.
"Cheer up," the twins said brightly, nudging her as they walked.
"How can I possibly be cheery when we're about to be verbally assaulted by the Great Dungeon Bat for no reason other than daring to exist?" she asked bitterly, taking Ginny's name for the potions master and muttering it with a grouchy twist of her lips.
"Still sour from the dementor encounter?" Lee asked tactlessly. Alicia seemed to pale from where she was walking beside him.
"Didn't you eat any of the chocolate at the feast?" Angelina asked from where she was standing beside the twins.
"I'm sour over the fact that Dumbledore is letting those things hang around the castle," Winona replied tightly, not bothering to answer her other friend's question.
"It's not like they're inside the walls," Fred argued, unsurprisingly optimistic. "You'll barely even notice they're here."
Winona grumbled in response. Her bad mood was mostly due to the fact that she'd tried to find Professor Dumbledore after the feast the night before, only to find he'd already escaped to his office and, on top of that, McGonagall wouldn't give her the new password. She'd sent him an owl, telling him how urgent it was that they spoke, but all she could do was wait for a reply. She couldn't tell anyone but the twins this, however, so she blamed it on the dementors and Snape, figuring they were as good of a scapegoat as any.
The Potions master gave them a lecture on their OWLs, then instructed them to begin the Draught of Peace before stalking around the room and sneering over their shoulders at everything they did wrong. And that certainly didn't help Winona's mood.
Thankfully, the lesson went by quickly and with only five points taken from Gryffindor in the process. Despite this, she couldn't seem to shake the frown that stuck to her lips like a Permanent Sticking Charm.
Predictably, the twins weren't going to put up with her sulking for long, and as they left the dungeons and headed for the Great Hall for lunch, Fred slowed down to where she was straggling behind the group.
"Turn that frown upside down," he drawled around a cheesy grin.
"Not your best efforts, I'll admit," she murmured back. Despite her mood, the banter between them came as easily as breathing.
Fred nudged her lightly, causing her to finally look up and meet his sparkling blue eyes. "What's this really about?" he asked seriously, dropping his cheeky smirk to blink at her curiously, genuinely concerned.
She sighed, reaching up to rub at the aching spot above her left eyebrow. "I guess all those drawings of dementors...then seeing them on the train and having them around Hogwarts..." she trailed off, sighing again. "I guess it was just all a bit much. Maybe I'm like Harry, maybe it just affects me more than other people," she suggested, lifting a single shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.
She glanced back up at her dearest friend, noticing he wasn't looking at her, but rather frowning at his feet, radiating unease. Winona felt a stab of guilt. She never wanted to be the reason either of the twins lost their smile, she'd sooner throw herself off the astronomy tower than let that happen.
"Hey," she nudged him back. He glanced at her in surprise, as if he'd briefly forgotten she was even there. "Turn that frown upside down," she echoed his words from before. He was quick to roll his eyes in mock exasperation while she forced herself to shoot him a grin.
"Good," he said suddenly, reaching up to tap her smiling lips with his index finger. "Keep that smile in place, and just maybe sometime soon it'll become real."
"There's a Muggle saying," she told him, doing as ordered and securing the (slightly forced) smile in place. "'Fake it till you make it'."
Fred beamed, liking the sound of that. "Brilliant," he chirped, the bounce in his step returning. "Fake it till you make it!" he repeated, enjoying the words on his tongue. "Sounds like our new motto." She chuckled, surprised to find that it wasn't as hard to force out as she'd thought it would be. "Y'know, maybe there's more to it than that," he suggested after a beat, and she looked up at him confusedly. "Well, you're a Seer, right?"
"Yes," she said slowly, brow furrowed as she looked up at him through narrowed, skeptical eyes.
"Maybe something bad's going to happen."
Winona hesitated. "I'm not that kind of Seer, though," she said, more to herself than to him. "It's always come across through art."
Fred shrugged, "didn't Trelawney once say your abilities may 'grow as you do'?" She was quiet, contemplating his words. "I mean, you knew Harry was going to get hurt in that Quidditch match last year – and you hadn't drawn that. And you knew exactly when to go save Hermione from the basilisk – still not happy about that, by the way – but you didn't draw that either. I think this is just your abilities as a Seer growing. You shouldn't be afraid of it. I think you should embrace it," he finished with a deep breath and a wide, supportive grin.
It was a possibility, and she had to admit it had merit. Still, the thought wasn't a pleasant one. If he was right – and he usually was – then by that logic something bad was going to happen. So the problem was just that; something bad was going to happen.
"Anyway, I'm excited to see what this Lupin bloke is made of," he barrelled on, smoothly changing the subject when he realised it was the last thing Winona needed to be focusing on in that moment. She sagged with relief at his thoughtfulness. "Where do you reckon he'll sit on a scale of Quirrell to Lockhart?"
"You mean, on a scale of having You-Know-Who on the back of his head to being a useless, self-obsessed tosser?"
"Sounds about right," he grinned.
Winona laughed, shaking her head and adjusting the strap of her bag before speeding up, catching up to the rest of her group just as they were approaching the Great Hall. Lunch went by quickly, George and Angelina distracting her from her dread by engaging her in a conversation about the previous night's sorting.
By the time they were heading up to the Defence classroom she felt better, that much she couldn't deny, but there was still an inexplicable dread twisting deep within her gut.
The feeling only got worse when they stepped into the classroom to see a wardrobe standing in the middle of the room, wobbling back and forth as though something within it was struggling to get free. Winona swallowed, the sinking feeling in her gut getting worse, and though she had no idea what could have possibly been in the wardrobe, she knew it wasn't going to be fun.
"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin greeted them politely, dark eyes sweeping over the gathered students. "Today will be a practical lesson only, so books away. Can anybody tell me what we're-?" he cut himself off abruptly. Winona was confused until she looked away from the wardrobe to find he was staring directly at her, his jaw dropped open.
Confused and just a tiny bit scared, her eyes widened in question. Why was he looking at her like that? Her heart stuttered in her chest.
The class shuffled where they stood, everyone wondering why the sudden pause.
Professor Lupin cleared his throat and looked away, seeming to take a second to gather his wits before turning back with that small, pleasant smile on his handsome, yet scarred, face. "Can anyone tell me what we're dealing with here?" he asked again, this time without pause, as if the brief moment had never happened.
Winona was still confused, replaying the way he'd looked at her over and over in her head. He'd stared at her like he'd known her. Like she were a ghost come back to haunt him. But how was that possible? She'd never met him in her life, had she?
There were no Hermione's in their group, so nobody's hand violently punched the air. Instead everybody shifted uncomfortably, hoping beyond all hope that they weren't going to be called on to answer.
"How about you, Mr Barrow?" Lupin finally asked, singling out the ugly Slytherin bully towards the back of the room.
"I dunno," he grumbled roughly, glaring at him for a moment before returning his angry, irritated gaze to the ground.
"Hm, how about you, Ms Spinnet?" Lupin moved on smoothly, gesturing for Alicia to answer instead.
"Uh, would it be a Boggart, Sir?" she attempted, eyeing the rattling wardrobe warily.
"Five points to Gryffindor," he said simply, smiling at her, his haggard face surprisingly bright as he turned to the wardrobe. "Now, what does a Boggart look like...Mr Weasley?" This time he looked directly at George, though Winona knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had no idea which twin it really was.
"Nobody knows," George responded confidently. The twins weren't ones to call out answers in class, but if they were called on, they were hardly ever wrong. They were a hell of a lot smarter than anybody, especially themselves, ever gave them credit for.
"And why is that?"
"Because they turn into the person's biggest fear."
"Precisely. Now, the charm to repel a Boggart is simple, but what will really finish it off will be laughter. What you'll be doing is forcing it into a shape we will find amusing."
"But Sir!" called Angelina suddenly, saying what everyone was thinking, "we covered Boggarts third year!"
"Yes, I know," Lupin told her patiently, and Winona grimaced at the memory of Quirrell trembling as he wrote the word 'Boggart' on the board. "But you've never had any practical experience with one. I thought we would do some revision, as it will come up in your OWLs."
The class at large let out a groan and the professor smirked at the sound.
The task ahead of them sounded simple enough, but Winona couldn't help but feel like it wasn't going to be a walk in the park. They went though the charm, then lined up to have an attempt at thwarting the faceless Boggart. Winona wondered what she feared the most.
She wasn't a huge fan of snakes, perfectly understandable considering the events of the year before. She didn't like rats – she'd always hated Ron's stupid pet, Scabbers – but she wouldn't say she was afraid of them, necessarily.
So, what was her biggest fear? What would the Boggart find worthy enough in her head to bother morphing into?
The people in front of her went, the class breaking out into laughter at what was ahead of them, but all Winona could focus on was what was going to appear in front of her. The person in front of her was afraid of mimes – which was weird, but she didn't like to judge – and he whimpered before his Boggart began to shrink down, curling in on himself as he seemed to be trapped inside of an invisible, shrinking box.
He stepped out of the way, smiling proudly to himself, and Winona was left in front of the thing to face her biggest fear. The shrunken mime stared up at her for a long moment then began to shift, spinning into itself too fast to see, only to reappear in an unexpected form.
A wizard stood in front of her, draped in heavy, purple robes with the Ministry of Magic insignia placed proudly on the chest. The wizard was leering at her darkly, eyes beady and cold, and he was tall, towering over her threateningly.
But the worst part was, by far, the thick, menacing, unbreakable chains held in his hands as he approached her slowly, a triumphant sneer on his face.
She realised, suddenly, that it couldn't have been anything else. This was her biggest fear – everyone finding out about her abilities as a Seer, being locked up for them, because people were afraid of the things she might know, or because they wanted her rare power for themselves. Because what was a more valuable asset than an all-access glimpse into the future?
Swallowing, Winona raised her wand, her hand trembling as she shouted, "Riddikulus!" and suddenly the chains had turned into balloon animals with terribly drawn faces, and the Auror was now draped in an absurd patchwork shawl with a cliché red ball fastened to his nose and a curly, rainbow wig was sitting atop his head.
The class behind her tittered, although she was sure none of them fully understood what they'd just seen.
Feeling oddly out of herself, Winona cracked a barely-real smile before wandering numbly to the back of the line. The rest of the class went smoothly, it was full of laughs and hilarious sights, but soon it was over and everyone was moving past her like a school of fish all floating from one end of the room to the other.
"Winona?" it was Fred's voice, and she realised she hadn't moved even though they'd been dismissed. Blinking, she quickly bent down to collect her things and throwing them over her shoulder and turning for the doorway, where the twins stood waiting.
"Miss...Andrews, was it?" the new Professor's voice rang out through the emptying room, and she paused, glancing over her shoulder to see him looking up from the class roll, as if he needed to confirm her name. "Winona?" he added, meeting her eyes across the room with a question, like he almost couldn't believe that was her name.
"Yes, sir?" she asked, bewildered.
"Are you all right?" he questioned carefully, looking over her as though assessing for damage.
"Yes, sir," she answered automatically, even though she wasn't even sure if it was the truth. Lupin nodded, still watching her closely. The weight of his eyes on her was unnerving, heavy and familiar in a way she couldn't explain. "Can I go, Professor?" she asked warily, gripping the strap of her bag tighter.
He paused, a shadow passing behind his kind eyes,. It was gone just as quick, replaced by cool professionalism. "Yes, of course," he said politely. "Have a nice afternoon."
"You too, sir," she said respectfully, then turned and met up with the twins hovering in the doorway. Both boys looked curious, and she knew questions were burning at their tongues, but they mercifully didn't voice them, for which she was grateful. She figured they'd make her talk about what had happened later on, but for now she was content to just suppress it and pretend like she was fine.
"Can you believe Barrow's greatest fear is lemon juice?" George snorted, kindly changing the subject, keeping it in safer waters.
"I hear he's deathly allergic to citrus," Winona said with a forced smirk. It made the twins snigger and begin loudly thinking up new pranks involving citrus fruits for the future.
At lunch, Winona took her seat to the left of Angelina while the twins wandered further up the table to talk to Wood about Quidditch.
"Crazy lesson, right?" her friend began conversationally, but Winona could do no more than shrug her shoulders. From across the table, Alicia drew Angelina into a conversation about Transfiguration, and Winona was distracted when Ron, Hermione and Harry all took heavy seats to her left.
"Harry," Ron said, in a low, serious voice, picking up his spoon but for once not making any move to begin eating, "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"
The question made Winona's skin crawl, and she turned her full attention to the conversation, making no attempt to pretend she wasn't listening.
"Yeah, I have," replied Harry casually. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'."
Ron looked like he was about to throw up at the news.
"Probably a stray," Hermione said calmly, and Winona had to wonder exactly what had happened to bring about this discussion.
"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," Ron said blandly, going pale. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"
Heart racing in her chest, Winona took a deep gulp of juice to try and steady her nerves. "Coincidence," Hermione explained airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" hissed Ron, slowly turning from white to red. "The Grim scares the living daylights out of most wizards!"
"There you are, then," huffed Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"
Despite her concern over the subject, Winona managed a tiny smile of amusement. Ron was glaring but Hermione was paying him no attention, fishing out her Arithmancy book and propping it open in front of her.
"I think Divination seems very woolly," she added flippantly, fingering through the pages for something in particular. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."
"Well, that's a little insulting," Winona finally spoke up, and Hermione glanced up, eyes wide like she'd been stunned. Her cheeks went a rosy pink, and her mouth fell open as she scrambled for an appropriate response.
Winona stared back impassively, kind of pleased to see her speechless while Harry and Ron were somewhere halfway between gaping and grinning.
"I-I didn't mean you, Winona," the girl eventually murmured, embarrassed and just a little ashamed. "I just mean Trelawney, well, she's..." Hermione trailed off, unsure how to proceed. Winona cocked an eyebrow, and she seemed to turn a darker shade of red.
"What happened, exactly?" Winona finally asked, taking pity on Hermione and turning her attention to Harry.
"Professor Trelawney says I have the Grim," he told her, seeming blithely unconcerned. Ron was back to looking terrified.
"She saw it in his tea leaves," the redheaded Gryffindor said, nodding his head. "I did too, it was definitely the Grim!"
"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," Hermione said coolly, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura!" Ron exclaimed as a last resort to win the argument. Harry and Winona exchanged wary glances. "You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"
Hermione slammed her book against the table with enough force that the food on her plate went flying, but she remained unperturbed, glaring at the taller boy heatedly. "If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer!" she hissed, and Ron had the decency to look scared. "That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"
She shot Ron one final glower before snatching up her bag and stalking away. "What's she talking about?" Ron asked the others bewilderedly. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."
Winona knew this wasn't the case, but said nothing as she'd promised.
"What about you, Winona?"
"Yeah, I love Arithmancy – it's the only class that I find comes easy; I've always been weirdly good with numbers-"
"Not that," Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation, and Winona frowned. "Have you had any…y'know…visions, about the Grim?" he asked, keeping his voice low so nobody would overhear the forbidden word.
Winona considered lying, but decided that didn't help anyone (except maybe Dumbledore, though she wasn't exactly sure how). "Yeah, actually," she nodded. Ron's expression rearranged into something akin to horror.
"So Harry really is going to die?" he asked, eyes wide as he stared at Harry like the kid was already dead.
"Of course not," Winona forced a chuckle, picking up a few pieces of sliced apple and chewing on them carelessly as she spoke. Ron looked confused. "For all I know, it could have just been a regular dog," she said, and Harry nodded eagerly. "Harry isn't going to die, Ron," she told him when he didn't look at all convinced.
And as much as she hated it, she wished she was more convinced, too, because she couldn't help the feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her, clear as day, that absolutely nothing was as it seemed.
Winona was relieved when, a week into term, she finally got a response from Dumbledore.
Miss Andrews,
Please join me for tea and liquorice snaps in my office once classes have concluded for the day.
Sincerely,
Professor Dumbledore
PS: I've always been fond of Cauldron Cakes.
Winona let out an audible sound of relief, smiling down at the paper as though it wasn't a hastily scribbled note from the Headmaster.
"Who's that from, then?" Angelina spoke up from opposite her, leaning over the table to get a better look before frowning when the note was moved from her field of vision, Winona folding it up and shoving it deep into her bag where nobody could see it.
"Oh, is it a secret admirer?" Alicia goaded from beside her, lips pulled up into a playful smirk.
Winona rolled her eyes but didn't answer. She couldn't tell them it was from Dumbledore – that would only warrant more questions – so she just smirked back, deciding to let them think what they wanted. She turned back to Lee and the twins, who were discussing McGonagall's mountain of assigned homework over stacks of pancakes and bacon.
"He finally get back to you?" Fred was perched beside her, and left his current conversation long enough to mumble the words from the corner of his mouth. She nodded, reaching forwards and pulling some shaved ham onto her empty plate, knowing it would be a long afternoon. "That's good, isn't it? He'll be able to answer your questions," he continued quietly, watching as she filled her goblet with juice.
"I hope so," she mumbled back before tuning into what Lee was saying; something about the theory of Vanishing Spells.
Classes went by quickly, and before she knew it Winona was standing outside the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. She sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself for the long conversation ahead.
"Cauldron Cakes," she forced herself to say, and the intricately carved gargoyle leapt out of the way, revealing the stairs leading to the office. She knocked twice on the door, half hoping he wouldn't hear, but a moment later he was telling her to enter. With a wince she pushed open the heavy door and slipped inside the familiar room.
It wasn't anything new to them, she'd been visiting the Headmaster every few weeks since her first year. He was incredibly interested in her sketches, she had a feeling he liked knowing the future more than he let on. Sometimes too much. She sometimes felt uneasy showing him everything she sketched. Why did he need to know? Why did it matter so much?
But what choice did she really have?
"Hello, Miss Andrews," he greeted her formally, smile welcoming from under his heavy white beard. "Your usual?" he asked politely, and she nodded, watching as he waved his wand lazily and the tea began pouring itself. "I apologise for not being able to meet sooner. I had a feeling there wasn't anything too urgent to discuss, and I had matters to attend to."
"It's okay, Professor," she assured him gently, taking the cup that was now hovering in front of her, pulling it to her lips to take a deep sip.
"I trust your summer was enjoyable?" he asked conversationally. Winona never was one for smalltalk, placing her teacup on the awaiting saucer with a gentle clink. "I get the sense you'd like to get straight to business," he said, sobering somewhat, not as innocently cheerful as he had been only moments ago.
She responded by pulling her sketchbook from her bulging bag, flicking it open to a certain page and placing it on his desk, just under his nose. He adjusted the half-moon spectacles on his face, glittering blue eyes focused on the eerie drawing of a Dementor, hovering above the ground, the tatters of its cloak brushed back by the wind.
"That's not all," she said, reaching across to turn the page, not once, but twice, showing him the unusually large number of times she'd sketched the dark, sinister creatures. "I don't understand. I've never drawn the same thing twice before."
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, considering the images before him and what she was saying. "There's no reason to let this bother you as it has been, Miss Andrews," he finally said, looking back up at her calmly, no hint of worry in his twinkling eyes.
"Then why did I draw them over and over again?" she demanded, then took a breath as she realised she was getting worked up, her anxiety like a ball of scrunched up wire in her stomach.
"I believe they will play an important part in the upcoming year," he spoke thoughtfully, a pensive look on his wizened, aged features. "You picked that up, and that is why you've drawn them more than once."
"That's all?" she asked hesitantly. Rationally she knew that was the only answer that made sense. What else could it possibly be? But the day on the train had made her so paranoid. She'd never encountered a creature so dark before.
"That's all," he nodded. "Though, if it would reassure you, I'd be more than happy to call Professor Trelawney up here-"
"That won't be necessary," she interjected just slightly too fast, pressing her lips shut and hoping she didn't sound too desperate. "I mean, I believe you."
Dumbledore smiled that secret little smile, like he knew exactly what was going on in your head, more so than you yourself did. "What else did you have to show me?" he asked, and she reached forwards to flick ahead to the new sketches that he hadn't yet seen.
She hesitated, almost scared to show him the next one. What if he confirmed what the twins had suspected? What if it really was an omen of her death?
"Then there's this..." she trailed off, opening the page to the big black dog before sitting back in the comfortable chair and burying her face in her teacup, sipping the calming drink slowly, if only to procrastinate having to ask the glaringly obvious question.
He was disconcertingly silent, staring down at the drawing with a far too serious look in his intelligent, knowing eyes.
Winona made to take another sip of tea, only to find her cup empty. She bit her lip, sighing out through her nose before placing it back on the desk and telling herself to grow a pair and speak up. "Am I going to die, Sir?"
Dumbledore looked up at her serenely. "We're all going to die, someday," he told her evenly, and she wished the twins were there, just so she could send someone an exasperated glare.
"Is it the Grim?" she asked, not bothering to play along with his conspicuous brush off.
The Headmaster tilted his head, observing her closely. She wondered if he was really reading her mind, and quickly conjured up a picture of Snape in women's lingerie just in case. However, there wasn't so much as a twitch on his face to suggest he'd seen the disgusting image. She herself cringed, wishing she'd thought up a better test, one that wouldn't stain her mind for all of eternity.
"Do you think it's the Grim?" he finally countered, that pensive look returning to his face, his hands steepled in front of him, elbows draped by red robes resting upon the desktop.
"Fred and George do," she admitted, eyes flickering down to the picture.
Dumbledore didn't blink. "But do you?"
She was silent, considering the words. "Harry was in divination last week," she began tightly, unsure if he knew this already but deciding to go ahead and tell him anyway. "Professor Trelawney read his tea leaves…she saw the Grim."
She frowned, feeling her brow begin to ache from the constant furrowing she was doing.
"That can't be a coincidence, can it?" she asked once more meeting his knowing eyes, genuinely needing to hear his response. "Sir?" she prompted when he said nothing, her heart racing in her chest.
"I suppose that depends on whether or not you believe in coincidences," he eventually answered her, frustratingly cryptic.
She groaned, unable to keep the sound from escaping. She reached up to rub at her temples, gritting her teeth in disgruntlement.
"Do you?" he pressed, curious.
She hesitated, irritation fading as she pondered the question. "I'm a Seer," she reminded him, and the word tasted bitter on her tongue. "Of course I don't believe in coincidences."
"Hm," he hummed, lips twitching under his white beard.
Things went quiet, Winona pensive while the Headmaster watched her intently. "I've started getting these intense...bad vibes?" It sounded like a question because she didn't know how else to put it. Somehow those words didn't seem to capture the fierceness of the feelings she was having. "In my gut, before something bad happens, I feel this twist of dread. Fred says it could be my abilities growing, as Trelawney said they might."
She took a deep breath, counting to three before letting it out slowly.
"But the thing is, I've been having the feeling all the time. It never stops; it's like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though I have no idea what that might look like."
Dumbledore considered her words carefully. "I think you should meet with the Divination Professor soon to talk about these...bad vibes," the casual phrase sounded weird coming from his mouth. "She has more authority on the matter than I could ever have."
Trelawney was a bit of a joke, of that much she and her friends were certain. She'd rather hear it from Dumbledore himself, but she wasn't about to argue with the wizard over it. "I'll talk to her at our next session."
"Which is when?"
"Next Monday night."
He seemed pleased, smiling before pushing a small bowl of sweets in her direction. "Liquorice Snap?" he asked politely, and just because she didn't want to say no she reached forwards and took a handful, promptly shoving them into her mouth so she wouldn't have to talk.
Dumbledore let her go quickly after that. Once he'd made copies of her drawings – as he did every time they met – he'd told her she was free to leave and waved her off with a smile. Despite his oddities, the Headmaster was enough of an authority that she felt slightly better about the whole thing.
She paused as she stood to her feet, a sudden thought stabbing at her brain. She knew it wasn't going to go away, and that it was better to just get it over with and ask.
"Professor?" she asked, adjusting the strap of the bag over her shoulder. The Headmaster looked up from where he was stroking a finger down Fawkes' crimson feathers. "I just had a question..." she trailed off, wondering how to word it. She swallowed the nerves building in her stomach, refusing to admit that she was scared of his answer. "It's Professor Lupin," she began again, embarrassingly unsteady. "When he saw me for the first time the other week, he looked at me like…"
"Like what, Winona?" Dumbledore pressed when she wouldn't finish, maddeningly patient.
"Like he was seeing a ghost, sir," she said, tilting her chin up to give herself strength.
Dumbledore's expression didn't so much as twitch, he didn't even blink, just staring back at her pleasantly. "Perhaps you remind him of someone he used to know," he suggested innocently, but to Winona, it only seemed to echo with everything he wasn't saying.
"Right," she murmured, swallowing again. "Have a good evening, Professor," she said in crisp farewell, leaving the room without looking back.
Despite the last few minutes, the meeting with the Headmaster had actually been of some help. She wasn't as worried about the dementors, and she was somewhat calmed about the supposed Grim situation too. She walked back to Gryffindor Tower with the knot of anxiety in her gut slowly unfurling, and she hoped that for once she might be able to get more than just a few hours of fitful sleep.
Monday night approached quickly, and before Winona knew it, she was walking up towards the North Tower like a prisoner on death row.
"Cheer up," the twins had told her earlier with unrestrained sniggers, "if nothing else, Trelawney's always good for a laugh."
She climbed the stairs, heading up to the attic that Trelawney called a classroom. As usual, the scents wafting through the room made Winona's head spin, so she tried to breathe only through her mouth as she made her way over to the front of the room where a low table was set up, a tea set sitting on its surface and two embellished cushions placed on either side.
Cautious, half expecting something to leap out from beneath a table and bite her, Winona wandered over, taking a seat on the closest cushion and waiting for the batty Divination professor to appear.
"I see your inner eye is wider than ever, my dear!" Trelawney's wheezy voice said, and Winona flinched in surprise, turning to see the Divination teacher in the corner of the room. She wandered closer, the bells on her outfit jingling with every step.
"Good evening, Professor," Winona greeted her, but the older witch barely acknowledged her, simply taking a seat opposite her and beginning to fill each of their cups with boiling water.
"My third years are learning to read tea leaves this term," she rasped as their tea steeped, her eyes locked on Winona, magnified times a thousand by her ridiculous glasses. "I thought we would touch on the ancient art, also."
"Sounds good," Winona murmured, for lack of anything better to say.
Trelawney wasn't one to make smalltalk, and Winona was more than content to sit in silence as they sipped their tea, her looking out the window while the Professor looked at her. She knew there were questions she needed to ask while she had the chance, and she reluctantly turned back to the older Seer to ask them.
"Professor, I had some questions," she said, and the batty old witch blinked her large eyes slowly. Taking this as a good sign, Winona continued. "I've been getting…well, I've been calling them 'bad vibes'." Trelawney only continued to blink. "It's like a heavy sensation in the pit of my stomach. I get it before something bad happens."'
"Your inner eye is warning you of things to come," Trelawney told her with a croak.
"But why wouldn't I just get a vision?"
"Some things the inner eye sees cannot be translated by the mortal flesh," Trelawney rasped slowly, reaching up to adjust her vomit-green shawl.
Winona wasn't sure she understood, but the Professor didn't elaborate, so she just nodded her head as though this made perfect sense. "Also, well, I had a question about…about the Grim."
She sounded pathetic as she asked, voice wavering from her worry.
Trelawney flinched and gasped as though she'd said Voldemort's name aloud, raising a hand to her heart and peering through her thick glasses in horror. "What do you know of...the Grim?" she asked breathlessly.
Suddenly deciding against telling her of her sketch involving the big, menacing dog, Winona instead chose a scapegoat and ran with it. "I heard you saw it in Harry's teacup last week," she said, choosing her words carefully and watching the professor's expression twitch.
"Poor boy," Trelawney tutted sadly. "A life so short lived."
"Harry isn't going to die," the words were out before Winona had even realised she'd spoken. "I would see it," she insisted, because if that wasn't the case, then what was the point of her? "I would know."
Trelawney tutted once again, reaching out and gently patting her folded hands, like she was pitying the young Gryffindor, which only made her more irritated. "My dear," Trelawney sighed heavily, voice laced with sympathy. "You can't control what you see any more than you can control the change of the weather," she said, quite possibly the sanest, most helpful thing the old witch had ever said in her life.
Finishing off her tea, Winona held out her teacup hopefully. "Tell me what you see?"
Trelawney looked surprised. Every time they met, it was to convene about Winona's visions of other people. Never before had she asked to have a reading for herself.
"Why?" rasped Trelawney, not unkind, but also making no move to grasp her cup.
Winona took a deep breath as she carefully considered her answer. "Because I feel like I'm on the cusp of something huge. Because I feel like nothing I see is as it seems, like I'm being lied to constantly, about everything. Because I want to know if I'm going to be okay," she blurted, the words flowing like vomit.
But apparently this was the right thing to say, because Trelawney finally took her cup, peering into it through her large, ridiculous glasses.
The professor stared into it for a few moments, careful and considering, muttering something under her breath every now and then while Winona watched on, nerves building in her stomach like a charge.
"I see a constellation of stars, meaning good fortune," Trelawney finally began to speak, and Winona leant forwards on her uncomfortable, sequinned cushion, her heart beating in her ears. "I see a heart, representative of a new lover," she rasped, and Winona's eyes went wide in something caught between shock and embarrassment. "It's indistinct, however, suggesting your new lover to be fickle," she tutted, voice laced with pity. Trelawney looked up at her, eyes magnified by her glasses. "You're facing a love that won't be easy, this year, dear girl. See this blurred anchor? It means you'll be unlucky in love this coming school year."
Winona felt incredibly uncomfortable, talking about her love life with Trelawney like it wasn't flooding her with absolute mortification. "And, uh, what would you, um, suggest I do…about that?" she stumbled over the words awkwardly.
Trelawney tutted, smiling sympathetically. "I would suggest you be wary of with whom you share your bed," said the teacher plainly, blinking at her obliviously.
"Whoa! Okay, no," Winona hissed, cheeks so red they might as well have been on fire. "We're done," she said, tripping as she struggled to get to her feet.
"Was it something I said?" asked Trelawney, still gripping Winona's cup in her embellished fingertips.
"I've gotta go," Winona muttered, absolutely humiliated. "Owl me about our next meeting," she said, rushing towards the door. Trelawney didn't argue, for which she was grateful.
Winona barrelled down the staircase, trying to control the embarrassment at having that discussion with a teacher – and also wondering exactly what the hell it all meant. But, she supposed, at least she had something to worry about that wasn't related to dementors or the Grim or Sirius fucking Black.
Winona was curled up in her favourite corner of the common room only a week or two later, happily sucking on a sugar quill as she sketched with her free hand, trying to get the dragon's wings just right, when…
"Andrews!" the twins shouted in the same instant, but being in a full room already brimming with noise, it wasn't such a shock, so she merely looked up blankly, waiting for them to tell her what they wanted.
"Hm?" she hummed in acknowledgement when neither spoke, looking up at the pair who were practically bouncing on the balls of their feet. "What is it?" she asked, their eagerness rubbing off on her as she watched them, knowing something either really good or really bad was about to happen.
"If you would follow us, My Lady," Fred dipped into a low bow, extending a lanky arm in the direction of the stairs. George was kneeled by them, pointing in the same direction, smiling invitingly, only to flinch and scowl when a passerby knocked him unapologetically in the head.
"Hm, you know how much I like the royal treatment," she smirked, shoving her sketchbook into the depths of her cluttered bag before reaching up to take Fred's offered hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She let go, wandering over to where George was knelt, patting him gently on the head before taking the stairs two at a time then turning to the left, heading up to the boys' dorm.
She didn't bother knocking on the door to the fifth years' room, opening it and slipping inside, not having to wait even a moment before the twins threw themselves through the doorway and slammed it shut behind them before they raced around to stand in front of Lee's bed, which had the curtains drawn.
George gestured to the bed opposite the one they were clearly using in their plot, one she knew to be Fred's, with Lee sitting on it off to the side with a grin on his lips, and she laughed as she let her bag drop to the floor before climbing onto the springy mattress and crawling into the centre of the bed, plucking a pillow on the way and holding it in her lap, resting her chin in the dip as she waited patiently for the show to start.
The twins cleared their throats in unison, pulling out their wands and holding them to their throats, using the amplifying charm that they'd only just learned in class the other day.
"Thank you all for coming!" George's voice bellowed, a cheeky grin on his face as he spoke, making Winona giggle.
"We'll start by saying this: you've heard of Zonko's!" Fred began giddily. "Now, prepare yourselves for…"
They both reached their wands out, gently tapping the curtains which obediently flew open, exposing Lee's bed which held a piece of parchment hung like a banner across the top and a plate from the kitchens with a few small balls of what appeared to be some kind of candy sitting in the centre. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" the twins announced with brilliant beams, flicking their wands, streamers bursting from the tips.
The two friends broke out into ecstatic cheers; Winona had never felt so proud. The twins had been talking about their dream of opening a joke shop ever since they'd first become friends. She knew they needed a brand, not to mention a name, and it seemed they had finally settled on something permanent – and she loved it.
She cheered louder, both her and Lee going crazy as they clapped, the twins eating up the praise like flowers in the rain. They bowed deeply, thanking them in humble tones, but even they couldn't keep the grins from their lips.
"Okay, okay!" Fred eventually had to calm them all down. "Quiet please!"
Winona gave a few more cheers before finally falling silent and leaning back with a proud beam, hugging his pillow tighter to her, so insanely happy for the pair. They were glowing, so proud of themselves, and that was the best part to her. They deserved everything and more. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this would work out for them. It may be a long and rough road, but one day she'd be standing in their store watching as their stock sold out, kids unable to get enough of their brilliant inventions.
"Now, this here is what we call a Nosebleed Nougat," George told them eagerly, leaning down to pluck one of the small candies from the plate, holding it up to the light for them to observe.
"It was our very dear friend, Miss Winona Andrews, whom first gave us the idea," Fred continued, smiling broadly.
"It's from our brand new Skiving Snackbox range."
"In this one tiny candy holds the power to get you excused from class in moments!"
Winona remembered telling them she wished there was a potion to do that very thing, and she hadn't ever felt so helpful in her life. She beamed pure light at Fred, who grinned back goofily.
"Now, obviously, this can't be done alone," George was saying, and Winona realised all her focus was on his twin, so she pulled her gaze back to the redhead talking, giving him her full attention. "So, we've decided-"
"Out of the goodness of our hearts-"
"To hire you both."
Lee laughed, clapping his hands in amusement. "And what, exactly, will we be doing?" he asked eagerly, reaching up to adjust his dreadlocks.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Fred asked.
"You'll be our guinea pig," George exclaimed jovially.
"And you'll be our marketing manager!" Fred finished, looking directly at Winona.
"Your marketing manager?"
"Your guinea pig?"
The two friends asked their questions in the same moment, neither apparently very pleased with their new job titles. "We'd offer you something more, Lee, but let's be honest, what do you really bring to the table, talent-wise?" George asked, sending Winona into peals of laughter, head thrown back as she giggled.
"Not sure why you're laughing, marketing manager," Lee sneered rudely, but Winona wasn't worried, only laughing louder, clutching Fred's pillow tighter against her in her mirth.
"All we're asking from you, Winona," Fred continued, amusement obvious as he watched his friend slowly recover, "for now, at least, is to design a proper logo." He glanced up at the hanging piece of parchment, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes scrawled across it in his own messy penmanship. "The current one's a tad dismal."
Winona smiled, suddenly the task before her didn't seem so terrifying. "I can do that," she told them happily, mind already fluttering about from font to font, trying to pick the best one to suit the name.
"Of course, in weeks and months and years to come, we'll need you to aid in the development of packaging as well as advertisements and then, eventually, store layout," George added blithely.
Winona hoped she didn't look as pale as she felt. It sounded like a lot of responsibility, but Fred was quick to reassure her. "We'll build up to it all, of course. Plus, we'll be helping along the way. It is Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, after all," he told her, winking as he finished, and Winona was only slightly surprised to find it did in fact comfort her to know that.
"So, do they actually work?" Lee asked suddenly, hopping off the bed and moving over to the makeshift display, picking up one of the sweets and holding it up to the light, peering at it critically.
"You tell me," George grinned, reaching out to pass the chunk he was holding to Fred, who took it with a relaxed smile before taking a bite and chewing for a few long moments.
They all waited with bated breath, until finally a trickle of blood ran from his nose, dribbling over his lips and to his dimpled chin. Winona beamed, unendingly proud of her boys. She clapped again, and the twins dipped into another bow.
After a moment, however, she noticed a downside to the little gag. "Um, boys?" she began, and they grinned at her curiously, Fred grimacing when he got blood in his mouth. "How do you make it stop?" she asked hesitantly, and just like that the giddiness was gone from their faces.
"Ah," George murmured, turning to look at Fred who was frowning, lips just about welded together to keep blood from dripping in. "Well, we did make the antidote. Sometimes it works, but other times..."
"I think now would be a good time to take it," she said, eyeing Fred closely as more blood seemed to drip from his face. George scrambled to pick up a little grey coloured piece, reaching over to stuff it past his twin's bloody lips. Fred chewed for a long minute, but instead of stopping it, the blood only seemed to come faster and thicker. "Oh hell," she cursed, dropping Fred's pillow and rushing to his side. "Pinch your nose and tilt your head back," she advised him, and he winced as he followed her instructions.
"Yeah, that tends to happen..." George admitted through a wince.
"Well, despite the glaring holes in the plan," she began snidely, making both boys look at her through grimaces. "It's amazing and I'm super proud of you both." They broke out into grins, practically bouncing in their happiness. She glanced back at Fred, only to find blood spilling from his nose faster than he could stop it. "Come on," she grasped his elbow, beginning to tug him towards the door. "Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey before you bleed out."
Fred muttered something back, but the moment he opened his mouth his tongue got sticky with blood, so he sealed his lips shut again with a disgusted wince.
Winona chuckled, unable not to be slightly amused by the situation. "You're kind of an idiot," she told him fondly once they were out of the portrait hole, the lingering stares of their concerned fellow Gryffindors unable to follow them.
He hummed something that was probably meant to be scornful but just sounded like a grunt. She laughed again.
"Keep your head tipped back," she ordered, and though his eyes were glaring daggers, he still did as he was told. She held tightly onto his elbow, guiding him through the mostly empty halls. It was only about a half hour until curfew, but she figured they'd get away with it if they were late.
"What in Merlin's name...?" Madame Pomfrey was startled by their sudden entry, staring up at Fred's bloody face for a split second before leaping into action. "What happened?" she demanded seriously, all but shoving him onto an empty bed and beginning to wave her wand over him in a series of complicated movements.
"Jinxed," Winona lied again. Thankfully the nurse didn't question it, tutting exasperatedly before moving over to the cupboard along the wall and fetching a vial of potion.
"This will stop the bleeding," she assured him, and he removed his hand from his face to grasp it, throwing it down his throat before he had the chance to taste it or the blood covering him. "It'll take a moment," she added, and they waited a long minute in silence before finally the blood stopped flowing from his nose. She waved her wand once more and the red smears and stains vanished as though they'd never been there in the first place.
Madame Pomfrey tutted again, shuffling back over to her cabinet. "I think I know where we went wrong with the antidote," Fred whispered to her.
"Something tells me that right now isn't the best time to discuss it," she murmured back from the corner of her mouth. He nodded, looking a whole lot brighter than he had only minutes before.
They got back to the Common Room in record time, both eager to be getting to bed in preparation for the next day; the year's first Hogsmeade visit. It had approached swiftly, and before Winona knew it, she and her dorm mates were pulling on their winter jackets and gloves, talking amongst each other as they got ready for the visit.
"It's my birthday soon, y'know." Angelina never really had been one for subtlety.
"I'm aware," Winona told her with a amused smirk, adjusting the scarf she'd knotted around her neck. Angelina stared at her expectantly, and Winona knew the question she wanted to be asked. She just barely kept from rolling her eyes. "What do you want for your birthday, Angelina?" she asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes for effect.
Angelina just smiled happily, all too used to her sarcasm. "I'd love a new tub of broom polish, since you bring it up," she said, nudging Winona with her elbow. Winona laughed, nodding her head and picking up her art supply bag before heading down the stairs behind the other girls.
They found the Common Room full of people, but it was quickly emptying, people moving out the portrait hole, heading for the path that led to Hogsmeade. The twins were standing by the window chatting with Katie, who was laughing loudly at something they'd said.
Winona was about to move over to join them when she caught sight of Harry. He was sitting by himself on the couch, staring into the fire with the most miserable expression on his face that she'd ever seen.
A wave of sympathy swept through her, and she told the others she'd see them later, moving over to the couch and dropping down into the space beside Harry. The poor kid startled violently at her appearance, turning to look at her in surprise.
"Hey," she greeted him casually, crossing one leg over the other and peering across at him closely. "Happy Halloween!"
"Hey, Winnie," he replied gloomily, running a hand through his inky, untameable hair and returning his sorry eyes to the dwindling flames in the fireplace.
"You're not going to Hogsmeade, huh?" she asked, deciding not to bother beating around the bush. Her words only made him sigh heavily in answer. "Why not?"
"Didn't get my slip signed," he mumbled, propping his chin up on his fist and frowning into the flames.
"Well, as you surely know, I'm pretty handy with a pencil," she began hopefully. "I could forge your Uncle's signature."
Harry sighed again, shaking his head although grateful for the offer. "Thanks, but McGonagall already knows it isn't signed. It wouldn't work."
"What about the cloak?" she suggested, but he was already shaking his head. If he was surprised she knew about the cloak, he didn't show it.
"Dementors can see through it, I wouldn't last five minutes."
She winced before perking up, having one more solution to the problem. She knew every single secret passageway in the castle. She and the twins used the one that led to Honeydukes all the time, more often than they were meant to, that was for sure. She opened her mouth to tell him about it, only to be interrupted by the call of her name from over by the portrait hole.
She glanced up, meeting the twins' expectant gazes. "Coming," she shouted back, knowing they were impatient to get going. Then again, if Harry hadn't been allowed to go, perhaps there was a reason for it. She'd meant what she'd told Dumbledore; she didn't believe in coincidences. With a purse of her lips, she decided against telling him of the secrets passageway out of the castle. He was already a trouble magnet, no need to go making things worse. "I'll bring you something back," she offered quietly. "Anything you want."
Harry attempted a smile. "Thanks, really, but Ron and Hermione already promised to bring me back as much as they could carry. I'll be okay."
She shot him a genuine, if not slightly sympathetic, smile and nodded her head. "I'll see you later, then," she said, pushing herself to her feet.
"Have a good time," he told her rather unenthusiastically, but she didn't hold it against him. She took the opportunity to ruffle his hair as she passed, and though he grumbled in annoyance, when she glanced back she caught a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
"Took you long enough," the twins complained when she reached them, gesturing for her to duck out in front of them.
"What's up with Harry?" Fred continued as they made their way down the stairs, hopping off just before they decided to change, pulling away from the landing with a dull creak.
"Poor bloke can't go to Hogsmeade," she revealed, reaching up to make sure her Gryffindor-red beanie was in place securely on her head. "His uncle didn't sign the form."
"That's rubbish," George said snidely, their shoes slapping against the stone floor as they made their way to the entrance hall.
"I'll tell you what, he'd really benefit from a week or two with the map," she added offhandedly, becoming distracted by the windows they were passing, glancing out to see if there was any snow. It was still too early in the year, but a girl could dream.
The twins were suspiciously silent from behind her, and she glanced back to see them looking at each other, clearly communicating in their own silent way.
She waited until they were done, turning back to her with wide smiles, something decided without words. Although curious, she figured they'd tell her when they were ready. "George!" Lee's voice called from behind them, and the correct twin spun around to give their friend his full attention.
"So, where'd you wanna go first?" Fred asked her jovially once he was sure he wasn't needed, stepping forwards to loop an arm around hers, speeding up and dragging her along after him without waiting for George, knowing he would catch up in his own time.
"We have two hours to kill until we're meeting up with the others for butterbeer," she replied. "I don't care what we do as long as we make a stop at Scrivenshaft's. I've gotta pick up some new brushes. I read in a catalogue that they're selling these new deluxe ox-hair ones, and they're great for lettering, so I thought it'd make that banner I'm designing for you look extra good."
Fred blinked in surprise. "We only told you about it last night."
"I woke up early to work on it," she told him distractedly. "I've been experimenting with not only different fonts and lettering, and also colour, but that's something I think the two of you need the most input with. I'm thinking orange for sure, and I'm also really liking either periwinkle or magenta. The contrast gives off a really fun, chaotic sort of vibe…" she trailed off, glancing up at Fred, who was staring down at her with the most intense expression she'd ever seen him make.
It was a mixture between severe fondness and shocked perplexity, his blue eyes glittering in a way that made her skin tingle.
"What?" she asked self-consciously, knotting her hands together in front of herself, twisting her old ring around on her finger, the only thing she still had of either of her parents. She saw a smile playing at the edges of Fred's lips, and couldn't help the way her own copied the action almost unconsciously. "Seriously, what?" she repeated, tilting her head back so she could properly meet his eyes.
He didn't seem to know what to say, which was something wondrous in and of itself; a Weasley twin without something to say. That should have been a headline.
"Oi! What're we all standing 'round for?" Lee's voice interrupted their odd staring match. Winona was the first to look away, breaking their locked gazes and peering over at their friend, who was racing towards them eagerly. "We've got sweets to buy and butterbeer to drink!"
She looked back at Fred, only to see the strange expression gone from his face, replaced instead with bright excitement. "George and I need to stop in at Zonko's for some market research," he said casually, as though the odd moment had never even happened.
"Not to mention to stock up on Dungbombs," George added with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Onward, then," Fred continued, gesturing to the door that sat only a few metres away. "To freedom."
"To freedom," they echoed solemnly, following the ginger rockets out the door and into the howling wind. She enjoyed the sting of it across her face, it was almost like it was cleansing her of any and all lingering strangeness from her moment with Fred. She sucked a deep breath in, allowed herself to smile, and followed her boys down the path.
The Halloween feast was brilliant, as it was every year. Winona filled up mostly on pumpkin pie, having four slices before deciding to move on to the soup. Alicia and Katie were telling her all about seeing Cedric Diggory in Honeydukes, and how he'd been wearing a scarf that really brought out his eyes.
Winona glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where Diggory was laughing at something his friend had said. She had to admit, he was extraordinarily fit, and she briefly fantasised about what he might look like under his robes – due to all the Quidditch practise – until she got ahold of herself, but not before she told Alicia that she was correct. He was, indeed, swoon-worthy.
She had ice cream for dessert, not able to fit anything else in, and listened as the twins told anyone who would listen about the-half ogre they'd spotted in the Three Broomsticks, and how they'd charmed his drinks frozen every time he'd tried to take a sip. She laughed along with the group, forgetting for a moment that there were dementors surrounding the castle and that her premonitions were getting stronger and more frequent than ever and that the lingering mystery of Sirius Black clung onto her like a parasite, sucking away at her sanity.
The calm only lasted until they got up to Gryffindor Tower. They came to an abrupt stop on the staircase, a backup of students making it impossible to get through to the portrait hole.
"What's going on?!" George yelled over the ruckus the group was making. Nobody answered him.
Winona stood on her tiptoes to try and see past the gathered crowd, but it was for naught, as she still couldn't see a single thing. A hand roughly shoved her out of the way, and she overbalanced, falling into Lee with a strangled yelp.
"Coming through!" Percy's haughty voice shouted. Her friend helped right her and she frowned after the Head Boy in irritation.
"Watch it, Bighead Boy!" Fred yelled after him angrily, but his older brother paid him no mind.
Winona turned to tell him it was fine, only for an abrupt hush to fall over the students before she got a chance. She hesitated, glancing around, hoping to find a clue about what the hell was going on.
"Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick," Percy instructed sharply, voice echoing through the now-silent hall.
No sooner had he spoken the words had the Headmaster appeared, as though the words themselves had conjured him. He gently pushed through the backed up sea of Gryffindor students. "What is it?" Winona whispered to Fred and George under her breath, the only of their friends tall enough to see over everyone else.
"The Fat Lady," George told her just as quietly. "She's gone."
The corridor broke out in frantic whispers, but Winona was confused. What did he mean the Fat Lady was gone? She leaned around a tall fourth year just as the crowd parted and got a glimpse of the familiar portrait, only it looked nothing like she had thought it would.
The painting was slashed to pieces, bits of canvas littering the ground, chunks of it missing from sight. Winona felt ill. She reached up to press a hand against her stomach, as though that might somehow help the nausea curdling in her gut.
McGonagall, Lupin and Snape had arrived, and idly Winona had to wonder how word travelled so fast amongst the teachers of the school. The Professors were talking to each other now, but Winona couldn't hear what they were saying over the inane chatter, gossiping chatter of the gathered students.
"You'll be lucky!" an irritating voice abruptly cackled from high above them. Winona glanced up to see Peeves grinning down at them wolfishly, or as much as he could, with his twisted little face.
"What do you mean, Peeves?" the Headmaster asked calmly, never one to rise to the bait.
Peeves hesitated, never one to give Dumbledore too much cheek. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," the Poltergeist cackled again, revelling in the mayhem.
"Did she say who did it?"
"Oh yes, Professor-head," he responded gleefully, looking very much ready to burst into song. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Winona felt a swooping in her gut, the type she felt when something important was about to happen, something that didn't make sense at the time, but would so later. It was a lot like her drawings in that respect. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."
Horror hit the students like a wave, frightened yelps and suspicious chatter echoing through the corridor at once. Professor Dumbledore was quick to jump in before anybody could panic too much. "Calm down, calm down!" he called coolly, arms raised as though he were performing magic. The sea of kids fell instantly quiet. "Everyone is to go directly to the Great Hall," he ordered smoothly, not looking even rattled by the bombshell dropped by Peeves. "You will wait there for further instructions."
He didn't tell them they were safe, which made Winona feel especially unsafe, but she said nothing, instead simply looping her arm through George's so she wouldn't get swept up in the crowd and following the surging current down towards the Great Hall.
"Blimey," Fred was murmuring to their group. "Sirius Black?"
"Why would he come to Hogwarts?" Alicia asked from behind them.
"More importantly," Angelina answered anyway, glancing between them all, "what could he possibly want in Gryffindor Tower?"
The twins and Winona knew the answer to her question, but they couldn't tell anyone that. Following the crowd of terrified students, Winona did her best to spot Harry in the throng, but he was lost in the current. Her heart raced in her chest, but she knew he was okay – for now at least.
The real question was: how had Black even gotten into the castle in the first place?
The Headmaster left Percy and Penelope – the Head Boy and Girl – in charge, much to Percy's pleasure, waving his wand and conjuring hundreds and hundreds of squishy purple sleeping bags. They covered the entire Great Hall, and Winona was quick to find a group of them against the wall where she could lean against it, able to keep her eyes (and her wand) in front of her.
It made her feel kind of paranoid, but then again, in light of everything else, maybe she was.
"Calm down, Win," George murmured as the rest of their group situated themselves around the space, dragging the sleeping bags closer together so they could talk without being overheard.
"It'll be okay," Fred assured her, wriggling into his bag before shuffling it over towards hers.
Winona was quiet for a long minute, considering her next words carefully. "How is this possible? How did he get inside the castle?" she finally spoke, pulling the material of her own bag closer to her chest, snuggling into it like she sometimes did with her pillow when she felt scared or lonely.
Fred looked past her at George, but she didn't move her eyes from his face. After a moment she heard George begin to chatter with Lee and Alicia, keeping their voices low so they wouldn't attract Percy's attention. Fred turned his full attention to her, but she didn't like the weight of his eyes on hers, so she turned her gaze up to the ceiling, feeling herself relax when she was met with the sight of a million shining stars.
"Black's not gonna get to you, Win," Fred eventually whispered, and she finally felt his eyes move from her face, joining hers on the charmed sky above.
"I'm not worried about me," she whispered back, gathering the material of her sleeping bag in her fists.
"Harry will be fine, too," he told her.
She pursed her lips, gaze following a shooting star as it danced across the ceiling, hugging the folds of her sleeping bag just that little bit tighter, as though it might miraculously hug her back.
This threat suddenly felt incredibly real and present. Before now it had been this abstract thing; a murderer on the loose looking for Harry. But now he was here, at their school in a remote corner of Scotland, and Winona had never felt less safe. Who knew what lengths Black would go to to achieve his ends? Where would he draw the line? Did he care who got hurt in the process?
As she thought this, she felt that familiar twist in her stomach that told her something was wrong. She had the strangest feeling that there was more to the situation than what met the eye, but she had no idea what to do with that information. It wasn't anything more than a feeling in her gut, an indistinct whispering in the back of her head that told her to dig deeper, to feel rather than see.
She resolved to sit down with her sketchbook the next day and actually focus for once. It was scary, forcing herself into a vision. She hated it; it felt like she was falling from a cliff through time itself. Trelawney had told her there was no need to be afraid, and that fear would only inhibit her 'sight', but she couldn't help how she felt. Sometimes she was afraid the current would carry her away and she'd be lost to the whim of time, gone from the present forever.
But if it helped Harry – hell, if it helped anyone – she would do it.
"If he can get all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, what can't he do?" she asked Fred after the candles had all gone out, plunging them into darkness but making the charmed ceiling only that much more brilliant.
Fred didn't say anything, but she could feel him watching her again, the weight of his eyes unmistakeable.
"I wish I knew what he has to do with me," she whispered, tracing her eyes over the galaxies in the ceiling above – like stars in a bottle. "Sometimes I think that if I figured that out, I might be able to deal with it. I might be able to fight against it. I might be able to survive it."
"Whoever Black is, whatever he wants," Fred told her in a barely-there whisper, "you're not dealing with it alone."
His words brought a smile out of Winona despite it all, and she turned her head to aim her smile at him in the dark. The low light of the starry sky above cast an ethereal glow upon her best friend's face. His blue eyes seemed to almost shine, and when he smiled back at her it was enough to steal the breath from her lungs.
"Thanks," she whispered warmly.
"Get to sleep, you two," Percy's nasally voice ordered them before Fred could reply, glowing wand pointed not-so-threateningly in their direction.
Neither of the pair responded, too washed out from the night's events to bother. Winona slid down, laying her head back against the thin pillow they'd supplied and staring up at the sky. Her mind slowly cleared itself as she gazed up into the stars that she pretended, just for the moment, were real.
After a long few minutes her hands finally detached their vice-like grip from the sleeping bag and moved steadily to her sides. She sighed again, blinking warily up at the galaxies spinning above her head.
As she began to slip into unconsciousness, she vaguely felt a finger curl around her pinky. It was on her right, where she knew Fred lay, and a sudden feeling of warm safety wrapped around her like an embrace.
She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.
A/N: Thank you guys so much for your support the last few chapters. Hearing that some of you have binged this story in your free time like I myself do so often on this sight fills me with so much happiness. I'm thrilled you're liking the story so far, and those of you who have said kind things about my writing, I thank you. You guys are the best, and I love you all.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you again soon!