It felt like mere seconds went by before something kicked her in the leg and she woke up to a familiar snort-giggle that could only belong to one person.
"Fuck off, Ginny," Winona muttered, nuzzling back into Fred's warmth, feeling his chest rise and fall from beneath her head.
"Language," gasped George dramatically. Winona reluctantly opened her eyes to glare at the siblings, both of whom wore large, shit-eating grins at the sight of her and Fred pressed together. Fred groaned from beneath her, yawning as he too reluctantly prised open his eyes.
"Dad says you two need to stop snuggling so we can leave," said Ginny, impish as could be.
"Right, I'm sure that's exactly what he said," Winona muttered, loath to lose Fred's warmth but also keen as hell to get out of the campsite and back to the safety of the Burrow. She threw her feet over the edge of the couch, stretching her back until it popped, then reluctantly padded back over towards the doors.
She glanced back before slipping from the tent, catching the Cheshire grin on George's lips and the red flush to Fred's face before she ducked out into the early morning haze. It was frosty and still dark, and she hurried into the next tent, quickly changing into some jeans and one of her old knitted jumpers, then slipping her shoes onto her feet before getting her things together and being ready to leave all within five minutes.
Mr. Weasley took the tents down with magic this time, the excited spirit of it all having evaporated, along with their cheer.
Winona stuck by Harry's side as they walked quickly through the wreckage of the campsite towards the queue for Portkeys, where they were able to take an old rubber tyre back to the hill from the day before. The atmosphere was morose compared to then. Winona could sense that nobody felt up to any form of conversation, and she had to confess, she felt the same.
When the Burrow finally came into view, it was along with Mrs Weasley, who stood outside waiting for them, an absolute blubbering mess.
"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" she cried when her family and company finally came into sight. "Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —"
She clutched on tightly to her husband in hysterics, more than a little bit relieved to find them each alive and in one piece.
"You're all right," Mrs Weasley was muttering, letting go of her startled husband and staring at all of them with red rimmed eyes, "you're alive. Oh boys…"
Then she surged forwards towards the twins. Winona bristled, wondering if she was going to try and slap them or something – but instead she did something far more surprising. She gathered them into a hug so tight that their heads smashed against one another, and they let out grunts of discomfort as she held onto them with everything she had.
"Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —" cried George, both attempting to wriggle free of her vice-like grip.
"I shouted at you before you left!" was all she said, the words coming out in short bursts of sobs. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred … George …"
"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr Weasley said soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house.
Winona sat between Fred and Ginny as they all congregated around the table, beginning to pile eggs and toast onto their plates, all of them starving.
Mr Weasley was talking to Mrs Weasley about the attack at the Cup, and reading out an article written by some woman by the name of Rita Skeeter that nobody around the table seemed to be particularly fond of. Winona made a mental note to pay more attention to the news.
She was in the middle of debating the strengths and weaknesses of the Holyhead Harpies with Ginny when the call of her name caught her attention. "Winnie?" asked Harry, and immediately her eyes went to him, eyebrows raised in expectant question. He, Ron and Hermione were all standing by the door, apparently waiting for her to follow.
"I've been summoned," Winona winked at Ginny, who rolled her eyes and turned to engage Charlie in a conversation about the Cup.
She stood to her feet, pushing back her chair and hurrying out after the Golden Trio. She followed Ron's lead as he took them up to his room at the very top of the Burrow, the whole way feeling rather like she were in for something big.
"What's up, Harry?" asked Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them. Winona took a seat on one of the beds, the mattress pleasantly bouncy.
"There's something I haven't told you," Harry began, taking a moment to look each of them in the eye. "Any of you…" he said, glancing meaningfully – and maybe a little remorsefully – at Winona. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again," he said it quickly, rather like ripping off a bandaid.
Winona groaned, falling backwards so her spine hit the mattress, the springs creaking under the assault. She stared up at the ceiling above her and scowled, having the awful, awful feeling that this year was going to be anything but easy.
"But – he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean – last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?" Ron was asking Harry hurriedly.
"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," Harry assured him. "But I was dreaming about him…him and Peter – you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill…someone."
The way he said the last part was suspicious, but Winona knew better than to call him out on it. Harry was a smart kid, he knew what to keep to himself, and when. If she needed to know – if it was something he felt like he could tell her – then she'd know.
"It was only a dream," Ron sounded very much like he were trying to convince himself of the fact. "Just a nightmare."
"Yeah, but was it, though?" countered Harry quickly. The sun was peeking over the horizon now, bathing them all in a pleasant, peachy sort of glow. "It's weird, isn't it? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."
"Don't say his name!" Ron hissed at him, eyes flickering nervously around the room as though the Dark Lord himself was going to appear in a puff of smoke and eat them all alive.
"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?"
Winona did, vividly. She remembered Harry coming to her, scared out of his mind about what Trelawney had told him.
Hermione gave something of a derisive snort at the mention of Trelawney, one that made Winona roll her eyes. Yes, Trelawney was mad as a hatter, but she didn't deserve the outright scorn that Hermione presented her with at every possible turn. "Oh Harry," sighed Hermione in exasperation, "you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"
"You weren't there," argued Harry, quite rightly, too. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance –– a real one, just like Winnie," he said, gesturing at his cousin, who had by now sat back up, watching on with a frown pinching at her brow. "And she said the Dark Lord would rise again … greater and more terrible than ever before … and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him … and that night Wormtail escaped."
Nobody seemed to know how to reply, Hermione and Ron both falling silent. Winona stared at Harry, taking in the earnestness in his emerald green eyes. "Why not tell me sooner?" she finally asked him, and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
"I didn't want to worry you," he said, soft and just a tiny bit meek. "I wrote Sirius though. Told him about the scar," he added, lifting a hand to brush against the scar that sat clear as day on his forehead.
"Has he replied?"
"I'm waiting for his answer."
"Good thinking!" said Ron suddenly, holding a renewed sense of energy. "I bet your dad'll know what to do!" he told Winona, who tried very hard not to flinch at the casual exclamation of the 'd' word, and yet still failed.
"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry, casting a forlorn glance out at the sky.
"But we don't know where Sirius is," Hermione reminded him logically. "He could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he? Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry, still a little down. He looked over at Winona with a glint of hope to his eyes. "You haven't heard from him?" he asked her hopefully.
She shook her head. "You'd know if I had."
"And you haven't Seen … anything?" Ron asked.
"Will you stop whispering the word like it's some kind of curse?" she huffed at him. The tips of his ears went red, properly chastised. "But no, I haven't Seen anything about this."
Ron sighed in defeat, like that had been the last possible answer to the dilemma, but Hermione's eyes were narrowed and calculating. Ron suddenly perked up, turning to Harry eagerly. "Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry," he said brightly. "Come on — three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play. … You can try out the Wronski Feint!"
"Ron," Hermione said, sounding vaguely scolding, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now. He's worried, and he's tired. We all need to go to bed."
"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," Harry interjected suddenly, and Hermione threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and left the room, presumably for bed. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt," Harry said, kneeling down by his trunk to fish out his broom.
"Four on four," Winona said, still reclined on the bed she assumed to be Harry's, since his trunk was at the end of it.
"What?" Ron asked, bewildered by the sudden words.
"I said, four on four," she repeated with a roll of her eyes. "Ginny and I'll play, too." Ron tipped his head back and groaned like she were the most annoying creature on the face of the earth. "Why can't we play?" she asked sharply, and Ron looked surprised by the sudden question. She struggled to taper her own amusement. "Are you saying girls aren't as strong as men? That we're not as good at Quidditch? Are you trying to tell me you're better than us, Ron, just because your reproductive organs are on the outside instead of the inside––"
She had at least three more minutes of material, but Harry swooped in to save the day, stepping between her and Ron before his best friend spontaneously combusted from sheer embarrassment. It didn't look like he was far off, judging by how red his face was turning.
"Ron, why don't you go get the others? We'll meet you downstairs," Harry said, and Ron hightailed it out of the room before Winona could talk any more about their 'reproductive organs'.
Harry turned back to her with an exasperation on his face that only tripled when met with Winona's large, satisfied grin.
"Do you have to torture him like that?" he asked in the voice of an overworked preschool teacher.
"It's just so easy," she laughed, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Besides, it's a laugh, innit?" she asked, and Harry chuckled even despite himself. Winona grinned victoriously. The smile dimmed, however, as she remembered the severity of what they'd been talking about only just before. "You sure you're okay, Boy-Wonder?" she asked, the mood become serious once more. "You'd tell me if you weren't, right?"
"Yeah," he said, nodding his head quickly. "I would."
"And if your scar ever hurts like that again––"
"I'll tell you," he finished with another nod. "Promise."
She smiled back at him, relieved. "Good," she said, much more relaxed than before as she got to her feet, ruffling Harry's hair as she passed. "Come on," she told him jovially, heading for the door. "Let's go flatten some Weasleys at Quidditch."
Outside the sun had risen fully. Not a cloud was in sight and the sky above them was a deep, endless sea of blue, the sun pleasantly warm against their skin.
The rest of the Weasley kids – sans Percy – were all already outside, milling around in the orchard and holding various types of battered old broomsticks in their hands.
The twins were a few paces away from everybody else, hidden halfway behind a tree. Curious, Winona left Harry to begin the debate about teams as she wandered over to the twins. As she grew closer she caught the tail end of their whispered conversation.
"We have to tell her, Fred."
"No – after everything that happened at the Cup? We can't."
"Since when do we keep secrets?"
"Since now. Since this."
"I really don't think––"
"What're we talking about?" Winona asked innocently, and both of them practically jumped out of their own skins at her sudden appearance. Letting out very un-manly yelps, they spun around, eyes wild with surprise. "What're we keeping from whom?" she continued, staring at them calmly even as her mind whirred with possibilities.
Had she forgotten some piece of information that she was meant to be keeping secret? Why were the twins so jumpy all of a sudden? And what did they mean what happened at the Cup?
"Nothing," said Fred quickly, but immediately he could tell that Winona was far from convinced. "It's just…girl troubles," he continued, and her expression shifted into one of confusion. "I'm thinking about asking Angelina to be my girlfriend," he blurted. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Seriously?" she asked, brow furrowed as she struggled to understand. George was now glaring at his twin like he'd murdered his pet cat – or something equally horrendous.
"Yeah," muttered Fred, reaching up to scratch at his flaming red hair. "You – you haven't had any visions about what she might say, by any chance?" he asked, voice wavering over the words.
"No, but I'll keep my inner eye out," she told him, still frowning from the unexpected confession. Fred was wincing, like he smelt something really bad, and Winona couldn't help but get the feeling she wasn't being told the whole story, however just as she opened her mouth to press for more, Charlie's voice cut across the small clearing in the orchard.
"Come on, Winnie!" he called with the beginnings of a competitive grin on his face. "I drew the short straw – so I guess that means you're on my team."
"Short straw?" she countered sharply, tossing one of the Weasleys' battered old Shooting Stars over her shoulder and turning away from the twins, a dangerous glint to her eyes. "That's the best bloody straw you ever drew in your life, Charles!"
She didn't see George slap Fred upside the head, hissing his irritation with his twin's stupid, cowardly decision of avoidance, rather than honesty.
The days passed by quickly, and Winona couldn't have been more relieved that Harry was there with them. If he'd had to go back to his horrible relative's place after the whole debacle at the Cup, she would have surely made herself sick with worry.
She spent a lot of her time helping the twins recreate their order forms – in secret, of course, because if Mrs Weasley knew what they were doing they would have to start from scratch all over again, which was the last thing any of them needed.
Speaking of the Weasley matriarch, she'd gone into Diagon Alley in their place, purchasing all the necessities for the coming school year. Winona was surprised, however, when she found a lumpy parcel on the end of her bed that looked more like some kind of sweater than it did any school supplies.
Unwrapping it, she pulled free a handful of silky, glittering fabric that slid across her skin like water. Holding it up, her eyes went wide as she realised it was a dress.
"Uh, 'Mione?" she said slowly, and Hermione looked up from where she was eagerly poring through her new Ancient Runes textbook. "Why'd Mrs Weasley buy me a dress?" she asked, and Hermione looked up, brow furrowed as she took in the shimmering fabric of the fancy frock.
"Well, on our supply list this year it said we need dress robes," she explained, eyes flickering over the entirety of the floor-length gown.
"Why?" Winona asked, a perfectly reasonable question.
"I don't know," Hermione shrugged. "Maybe we're having some kind of dance, or a celebration?" she suggested, not seeming particularly bothered by the mystery as she turned back to her book with laser-like focus.
"A dance?" echoed Ginny curiously, looking up from where she was haphazardly tossing odd pairs of socks into the depths of her trunk. "Why in Merlin's name would they put on a dance?"
"Beats me," muttered Winona flatly.
"D'you suppose that means we'll need...dates?" she asked, whispering the word like it tasted bad on her tongue.
Winona's mind flew to Jeremiah, and she swallowed thickly, thinking suddenly of how utterly impossible it would be, getting him to agree to be her date to anything, let alone a dance the whole school would be attending. "This year's going to blow," she sneered, eyeing the dress with a renewed contempt.
"You're telling me," agreed Ginny with a sigh.
The morning of September the first came, and Winona was torn between feeling excited to go back to Hogwarts and sad to be leaving the Burrow. It was bittersweet, but the twins cheered her up by telling her about the freedom they would finally have to make order forms whenever they wanted.
Bill and Charlie were going to come see them off at the station, but Percy told them he couldn't, apologising profusely, like he expected them all to break out into sobs at his absence. "I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them all importantly. "Mr Crouch is really starting to rely on me."
"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" George began seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."
Winona laughed so hard that she choked on the juice she was drinking, and Harry thumped her firmly on the back in concern.
They ordered three Muggle taxis to take them into King's Cross. "Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs Weasley whispered to Harry and Winona, who stood in the doorway, watching the taxi drivers gather the many heavy trunks into their cabs. "But there weren't any to spare. Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?" she muttered, a little anxious, making Winona wondered how much time she'd spent around Muggles in general.
"What d'you think'll happen if I set off a dungbomb in the back of the car?" Fred whispered to Winona conspiratorially as Mrs Weasley wandered over to check Ginny had all her things together.
"At least wait until we've gotten out of the car first," she begged him. The wicked grin she got in reply made her sigh. Then, as though cosmically-orchestrated, Fred's school trunk sprang open and his stash of Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks exploded in the poor cabbie's face. Winona snorted again, turning away to hide her amusement at the screech the Muggle gave in reply.
"Okay," Mrs Weasley began bracingly. "Ron, Harry and Hermione, you all take this cab here. Fred, George and Winona, you're in this one, and then Bill, Charlie and Ginny, you're in this last one with me," she told them, and they all hurried through the light rain into their designated taxis.
Stuck between Fred and George in the backseat, Winona clutched her art supply bag on her lap, reaching up to push away her damp hair.
"You lot excited to be heading back to school, then?" the cabbie asked about five minutes of awkward silence and bad talkback radio into their journey.
"Yeah," Winona replied, smiling at him politely in the rearview mirror.
"Not looking forward to seeing Snape's greasy old mug though, I'll tell you that," said George blithely.
"Remember that time we turned his hair pink?" Fred asked eagerly. "Wasn't that a laugh?"
"Yeah, but only because he gave us a Troll in that Potions final," George countered. Winona rolled her eyes, sinking back down in her seat so the brothers could giggle about their triumphs over the top of her head.
"Thinking about more devious forms of torture this year. Ever heard of a Hair-Loss Hex?"
"I like the sound of it already!"
"I read about it in that book Win got me for our birthday – the incantation's simple, really––"
"Boys," Winona said sharply, catching sight of the cabbie's bewildered eyes in the rearview mirror. "Muggle," she reminded them with a nod at the driver.
There was a beat of awkward silence. "What school did you three go to, again?" asked the driver carefully.
They managed to weasel their way out of answering by George pretending to suddenly lose the use of his legs, and by that point the cabbie was so bewildered he'd elected to just stop talking to them altogether.
It was almost sleeting as all three cabs pulled up outside of King's Cross station. Winona sighed as she slipped out after Fred, narrowing her eyes against the heavy rain. They all got soaked, standing in the rain and pulling out their trunks one by one. Finally they could all go inside the shelter of the station, but by then they were all already drenched. Winona's hair and clothes stuck to her face, and she pulled her sopping old sweater away from her body with a grimace.
They made it through the barrier and to the platform quickly, with plenty of time to spare. The twins led the way, finding a compartment somewhere near the back of the train and stowing away their things before moving back out onto the steam-shrouded platform to say goodbye to their mum and brothers.
Winona moved to Bill first, reaching out to shake his hand while the twins got a stern reminder from their mum to focus on their studies. "I gotta say, Bill, you certainly lived up to the hype," she told the eldest Weasley brother with a teasing grin.
"There was hype?" he asked, large hand shaking hers back.
"Oh yeah," she laughed. "You're something of a living legend with these guys," she told him, jerking her head towards the twins, who were now insisting they would never sneak into the Forbidden Forest – or, okay, well, not again.
"Gotta ask," said Bill suddenly, and she turned her attention back to him curiously. He was tall like the twins, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "That vision you had, of my wedding…"
"Can't give you an exact date," Winona told him before he could finish the question. "Why? You're really that eager to get hitched?" she added teasingly.
Bill gave a smile. "For the girl in the picture? Yeah, I guess I am," he replied, simple and easy, and she couldn't argue with that. She reached up, playfully tapping her index finger against her nose before turning just as Charlie swept her up into a hug.
"Look at you, Squirt," he said jovially, swaying to and fro in a playful movement. "A sixth year already," he put her down, reaching up to pretend to mop at his eyes. "I remember when you were a mere eleven year old, all paint-stained skin and messy blonde hair. Everyone thought you were batshit crazy, even then."
"And look at me now," she said proudly. "I proved them right."
Charlie laughed. "You sure did."
"I s'pose it'll be another three years until I see you again, will it?"
"Actually, I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," he said, grinning smugly as he hugged Ginny good-bye.
Fred perked up beside her with interest. "Why?" he asked keenly.
"You'll see," said Charlie mysteriously. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it … it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all," he added in a spot-on impersonation of his younger brother that would have made Winona laugh had the words not been so puzzling.
"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," added Bill longingly.
"Why?" pressed George impatiently. If there was one thing the twins hated, it was not knowing something, particularly something everybody else knew but them.
"You're going to have an interesting year," was all Bill said in reply, his blue eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it…"
"A bit of what?" said Ron suspiciously.
Then the whistle of the Hogwarts Express blew, loud and piercing across the platform, and Mrs Weasley quickly ushered them all back onto the train before it could leave without them. Winona took a quick second to pull her best friends' mother into a tight hug.
"Have a good year, Winnie, dear," she said, rubbing her warmly on the back before Winona pulled away and climbed onto the train beside the twins.
"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said quickly.
"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs Weasley," added Harry.
"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," Mrs Weasley waved their thanks away with ease. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but … well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with … one thing and another," she said, rather annoyingly enigmatic.
"Mum!" groaned Ron in irritation. "What d'you three know that we don't?"
"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs Weasley, smiling with a knowing glint to her eyes. "It's going to be very exciting — mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules —"
"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Winona, Fred, and George together.
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you," she told them dismissively. "Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?" she pressed when they didn't answer, growing anxious at their silence.
But the train began to move before she could prise an answer from them. "Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs Weasley only smiled and waved, and then they were gone, leaving them all staring out of the window at nothing.
"Come on," muttered the twins, already turning to head back to their compartment. "We wanna find Lee to talk about the Cup."
Winona paused beside Harry. "I'll see you at the feast?" she checked, and he nodded. "Oh, and tell me straight away if you hear from…" she trailed off, a sizeable array of possible things to call him coming to mind. "From Padfoot," she finally went with, voice low so nobody would overhear and get suspicious.
"Yeah, I will," he promised, and she tossed him a smile before hurrying off after the twins.
As they slipped inside the compartment with all their friends, Angelina stood to tug Fred into a quick snog that made Alicia, George and Lee let out loud boo's, and Katie throw a handful of Every Flavour Beans at them playfully.
Winona rolled her eyes, stubbornly ignoring the sourness in her gut, and slipped past them, collapsing down in the space between Katie and Alicia, then leaning between the seats to slap her hand against Lee's in greeting. "What's the go?" she asked, stealing a handful of Beans from Katie's box and assessing the colour of each before plopping them into her mouth.
"Anyone know why dress robes were on the school list this year?" Alicia asked first up, shifting aside to make room for Fred and Angelina, who were now holding hands as they sat down. Winona couldn't help but think she could see a glimmer of unease to Fred's eyes, but she couldn't say for sure and ignored it, turning back to the conversation with ease.
"I'm hoping there'll be some kind of party," said Katie eagerly.
"Every night's a party with me, baby," said Lee with a suggestive leer, and Winona tossed an Every Flavour Bean at his face, hitting him between the eyes.
"How is it possible for you to get creepier with every passing year?" Angelina wondered dryly.
"I age like a fine wine, babydoll," he quipped back, and the girls dissolved into laughter.
"Are nicknames your new gimmick for the year?" asked George from where he sat on Alicia's left, opposite his twin.
"Yeah. Thoughts?"
"I don't like it," said Katie bluntly. "Ange is right, it's creepy."
"Winnie does it all the time!" he argued indignantly. "How come it's not creepy on her?"
Winona looked up in surprise. "I make everything look cute," she told him easily.
The others all laughed, and Lee grumbled petulantly under his breath but otherwise didn't bother debating the point. He held out a Sugar Quill for her to take a few moments later, and she knew he was fine.
The sorting went by as usual, with the twins' usual jeers at the newly sorted Slytherins. She didn't bother reprimanding them, having given up on that particular battle long ago.
Dumbledore proclaimed the feast to start, and food appeared on the plates before them. Winona gladly helped herself to some pork and apple sauce, then spooned a healthy amount of green beans onto her plate, poured herself a pumpkin juice and began to eat.
"Who d'you reckon this year's Defence teacher will be?" asked Fred over dinner from where he sat opposite Winona, between Angelina and George. "I don't see anyone new up at the staff's table."
"I hope it's someone good," said Lee brightly before shovelling a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"No one could possibly beat Lupin, though," Winona added, gaining a series of emphatic agreements in response.
Angelina began a conversation about the Herbology homework they'd had over the holidays, but Winona tuned her out. She felt the weight of eyes on her head, so looked up from her plate and directly across the hall to see Jeremiah sitting between his brother and Malfoy. He was already staring at her, and his lips twitched up into a smirk once he saw her looking.
Heart racing from within her chest, Winona suddenly found it hard to breathe. She couldn't seem to force her mouth to smile back, just stared at him like a complete and utter dolt. She'd missed him. Being with Harry and the twins and the rest of the Weasley brood had been a lovely distraction, but she realised now, meeting his eyes across a hall full of oblivious students, that she missed him more than she'd ever missed Adam while they'd been together – and she and Jeremiah weren't even together. Not officially, anyway.
"What're you staring at?" Lee asked, loud and obnoxious, cutting through the haze that had invaded her brain.
"Nothing," she answered as casually as she could, breaking her stare with the oldest Nott brother and returning her attention to her food. George began telling them a joke he'd heard over the summer, and thankfully the focus shifted off of her.
About an hour later, once the last morsels of dessert had vanished from their plates, Dumbledore stood to his feet and the whole Hall fell respectfully silent.
"So!" said the Headmaster, hands held out wide, a cheerful smile on his lined, weathered face. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."
Winona severely doubted anyone but the twins was planning on checking it, and even then it was only for research, so they knew exactly which rules they were breaking.
"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
Across from her, the twins were gaping up at the Headmaster in pure horror, as though he'd just told them he was going to murder their family owl.
"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy," Dumbledore began to explain, ignoring the abject horror from the sea of glaring students, "but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"
But at that moment there was a deafening crack of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall burst open. An older wizard limped through, face horrendously scarred, chunks of skin missing from his cheeks and nose. Winona's eyes were wide, staring at the stranger in shock. The enchanted ceiling above them crackled with lightning and rumbled with angry thunder. She looked over at the twins, both of whom were staring at the man cautiously.
The man climbed up beside Dumbledore, shaking his hand and murmuring with him in low tones none of the students could hear. Then he moved back towards the staff table, spearing a sausage with a pocketknife and chewing on it violently.
"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore addressed the students once more, his voice bright and happy. "Professor Moody."
Winona turned to look at the twins. "Mad-Eye Moody?" she asked them in a hiss.
"Wicked," they murmured back as one, already thrilled about their newly appointed Defence Professor. Winona felt cautious, the guy was creepy and threatening – but at the same time, he was an experienced Auror. She supposed you didn't go through that and come out the other end without at least a few lasting scars – physical or otherwise.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, forcing their attention from the new Professor and back to him, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century," he said, and the anticipation in the Hall was palpable. "It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
The Hall was completely and utterly silent. Fred abruptly cried, "you're JOKING!" at the top of his lungs, and then the tension in the sea of students broke, most of them laughing at the Weasley twins' usual tact.
"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," the Headmaster chuckled, smiling widely across the room at their table, "although now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar––"
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er — but maybe this is not the time," conceded Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament … well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
Winona frowned, feeling something prickle at the edge of her subconscious, like there was something important she was forgetting – or perhaps was going to forget; the difference between the present and the future tended to get a little blurry when one happened to be a Seer.
The Triwizard Tournament wasn't something she'd ever heard of before. This wasn't altogether surprising – she'd grown up as a Muggle, after all. Hearing about it now, learning about its gruesome history, she wondered how good of an idea it was to bring it back. Her earlier thoughts about the state of the coming school year floated into her mind, and she felt the urge to bang her face against the tabletop in sheer frustration.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
"I'm going for it!" hissed Fred the second Dumbledore had finished his sentence, a fierce determination glinting in his cornflower-blue eyes. Winona frowned, the idea of either of the twins competing made her stomach feel hollow. The last thing she wanted was either of them risking their lives for five minutes of fame and some prize money – besides, didn't they have enough Galleons after their gambling scheme at the Quidditch World Cup?
She was more than relieved when Dumbledore continued on speaking.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."
Immediately the twins became furious, anger and chagrin on their identical faces as they cried out their discontent.
Dumbledore was unfazed, merely holding up a hand to silence his furious, underage pupils.
"This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."
His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces.
"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
With that everybody was standing and flowing like a school of fish towards the doors leading back out into the Entrance Hall. Winona stood too, but quickly noticed none of her friends had moved, all of them hovering where they stood, the twins glaring at Dumbledore like he'd personally offended them.
"They can't do that!" said George angrily. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"
"They're not stopping me entering," Fred told them stubbornly, also scowling at the staff table. Winona could practically hear the cogs turning over in his mind. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally," he said eagerly. "And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."
"Come on," ordered Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."
"Once we're chosen, I bet Dumbledore won't be able to stop us," Fred said to his twin and best friend quickly, his voice laced with confidence. "All we need to do is convince this judge, and then we're golden."
"You say it like it'll be so easy," Winona rolled her eyes.
"Who says it won't?"
"You're right," she said with yet another eye roll, "I forgot who I was talking to."
"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry asked the group conversationally as they all wound their way back up through the castle towards Gryffindor Tower.
"Dunno," Fred replied, still utterly confident, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George."
"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," argued Ron.
"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" Fred countered shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."
"People have died, though!" Hermione said, voice thick with worry.
"Never thought I'd say this, but I'm with Hermione on this one, boys," Winona said, and Fred and George suddenly looked at her with betrayal that made her huff. "I doubt you're going to be de-gnoming a garden or winning an Exploding Snap tournament. This is real, serious danger. 'Mione's right – people have died."
"Yeah," Fred countered airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk?" he asked, that devious glint still shining in his eyes. Winona decided to quit while she was ahead. The twins were the kings of stubbornness. They'd sooner admit to wanting to snog Snape than concede that she was right about this. "Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?" Fred asked his brother cheerily.
"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older. Dunno if we've learned enough…"
"I definitely haven't," Neville's voice said suddenly, sullen and gloomy from behind them. Winona turned to look at him, and he was staring at the floor, Eeyore-ish. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honour. I'll just have to — oops."
He tripped through the trick step, and Harry and Ron had to haul him back out of it by the armpits. He muttered his thanks with red cheeks, and Winona offered him a smile that only made his face darken.
"If one of us does get chosen, we'd win, right?" Fred asked her as they finished climbing the stairs towards the portrait hole. The Fat Lady asked for the password and George gave it, letting them all clamour inside before him.
"I dunno," she replied helplessly, lifting her shoulders in a shrug as she slowly wound her way through the dozens of armchairs and tables towards the fire, where Angelina, Lee and Katie were all sitting, eagerly discussing the Tournament.
"You don't know?" repeated Fred, disappointment dripping from his pores.
"I'm not a Magic 8-Ball, Fred," she told him tiredly.
"A what?"
"Never mind," she sighed, waving a lazy goodnight to Harry as he headed towards his dormitory for bed.
"You'll be seventeen in October, Ange," Katie was saying.
"Yeah, I'll definitely enter," Angelina replied. "I mean, what've I got to lose?"
Winona was tired. It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was curl up in bed with her sketchbook and draw while she listened to the hum of the storm raging outside. Before she could so much as open her mouth to bid the others goodnight, a tiny second year appeared in her vision, eyeing the twins beside her nervously. The younger students usually did – they'd heard the horror stories, they knew to be careful around the pair of human fireworks.
"Winona Andrews?" asked the little girl carefully.
"Yeah?"
She held out a small, folded piece of parchment. Winona took it and murmured a soft thank you, watching as she scurried away. She unfolded it, holding it close to her face so nobody else could read what it said.
Meet me tonight. Your bench.
Heart stuttering from within her chest, Winona swallowed thickly, staring down at the perfectly calligraphed letters that formed the words.
"Who's that from?" asked Lee, loud and obnoxious. "A secret admirer?"
Looking up in annoyance, Winona narrowed her eyes. "Maybe it is," she replied simply, stuffing the note into her pocket and climbing to her feet. Her group of friends let out playful 'oohs' that she ignored. "I'll see you later," she told them, already moving towards the dorms.
They called out varied forms of goodnights, and then once their attention was back on each other, Winona quickly slipped up the boys' staircase rather than her own. The door to the fourth year's dormitory was slightly ajar, and she made sure to pause and knock on the frame before entering.
"Harry, it's Winnie," she called through the gap. "Got a moment?"
There was some muffled sounds from within, and then Harry's head was poking through the doorway, eyes already heavy with sleep. "Everything okay?" he asked, adjusting his holey old sleep shirt.
"Can I have a favour?"
His brow furrowed. "Yeah?" he answered cautiously.
"I'm not going to ask for your first born, Harry," she told him with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "I just wanna borrow your cloak," she said, not having to specify which one.
His sleepy eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"General mayhem and other such teenage rebellion."
"It's the first night back at school."
She gave a theatrical grimace. "You're starting to sound like Hermione."
Rolling his eyes in response, he turned and disappeared back inside his dorm. She waited a few moments, and then he returned clutching his father's (her uncle's) precious invisibility cloak in his hands. The fabric was slivery and smooth; it was almost like liquid against her skin.
"Try not to get it confiscated," he said around a yawn.
"O ye, of little faith," she replied, and he batted her away, disappearing back inside his dorm, this time shutting the door after himself. "Love you too!" she called through the wood. She got no response, but she had a feeling he was smiling.
She checked she was alone in the corridor before covering herself in the cloak and turning back to the stairs.
In the time she'd been talking to Harry, the common room had emptied quite a lot. There were a few small groups along the edges of the room, but otherwise it was bare and still. Almost all her friends had gone up to bed as well, only Fred and George remaining.
They were seated on the couch, facing one another and talking in low tones. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, and was fully prepared to walk directly past them and out the portrait hole without stopping, but then she heard her name and her feet froze of their own accord.
"…Winnie could help, Fred," George was whispering to his twin. "She'll know what to do."
"I told you, we're not telling her," Fred argued back, casting a look back at the stairs to the girls' dorm as though worried the girl in question might be standing there, listening in. In reality, he hadn't the faintest idea how close to the truth he was. "She doesn't need the extra baggage––"
"It isn't baggage," George hissed in reply. "She'd our best friend. We've already told Lee, so we might as well––"
"She's angry enough about the bet as it is," Fred argued. "If she found out––"
"You're being an idiot."
"Whatever," Fred huffed, standing sharply to his feet. "I'm going to bed."
He turned and marched away, disappearing up the staircase to the left and vanishing from sight. George sighed tiredly from the couch and stood as well, stretching his arms over his head before following his twin up the stairs to their dorm.
Winona remained frozen where she was, feeling vaguely as though somebody had filled her veins with concrete.
The twins were keeping something from her; apparently something rather big that they'd already shared with Lee – but not her. Pain sliced at her insides, and suddenly the guilt about sneaking out of the Tower abated, replaced by indignation. If they could lie and keep secrets, then she bloody well could too, and she didn't have to feel ashamed about it.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Winona strode through the portrait hole and made a beeline for the courtyard near where the bench Jeremiah had been talking about sat. They'd met there several times the year before, and she felt her heart hammering away in her chest as she approached it. What would happen? How far would they go? Will something have changed between them over the summer?
A corridor away from the bench Winona shed Harry's cloak and folded it over her arm, walking the rest of the distance visibly.
Jeremiah was reclined back on the bench, head resting against the wall and his hands folded over his stomach. He seemed perfectly at ease, and as she grew closer he opened his eyes, eyeing her through the darkness with a smirk.
"Well, if it isn't the Little Lion," he drawled, voice raised just a little to be heard over the thunderstorm that was raging just outside.
"Hello, Snake," she replied dumbly, the sound thready and weak. His smirk widened and he sat up properly before standing to his feet and approaching her. "How was your summer?" she asked him slowly, feeling awkward, what was the protocol for the situation? Was she just meant to jump him? Was he here to break things off, rather than continue their secret rendezvous?
"You know what's great about this storm?" he asked as he grew closer, and the low drag of his husky voice made her shudder.
"What?" she asked, breathless as he reached out to grasp her hand, smoothly yanking her into an abandoned classroom off the main hall.
He grinned, the expression reminding her keenly of a shark. "We don't have to be quiet," he said deviously, and the door shut after her, leaving them sealed in the room and alone for the first time of many that semester.
A/N: Hey guys, first off I wanted to say sorry for the wait. I don't have a strict schedule that I keep my updates to, but I usually like to make it at least once a week. Hope you enjoyed this chapter – there's plenty more to come. And for those of you completely abhorring the Jeremiah scenes; it's okay, I agree, and I promise it'll be over soon.
Also, as a quick side note; thank you so much for your best wishes over the fires currently ravaging my country. Thankfully I'm not in an area that's had to evacuate, but even where it's safe we can still see and smell the smoke. Our firefighters are doing all they can, but even still, people and animals are dying, and could use all the help they could get. If you can even spare just a few dollars to one of the amazing charities supporting those effected by the bushfires.
Have a research yourself to see the cause you would most like to donate to, but personally I'm passionate about the Australian Red Cross Disaster Recovery and Relief. Of course, you don't have to donate anything if you can't afford it/even if you just don't want to. You're all still amazing either way, and your thoughts and prayers are enough.
The chapter's spotlight review is for srosegarden – thank you so much for reviewing. Hearing that you've been here since the beginning made me smile so wide, and your kind words fuelled my passion for this story. I hope you enjoyed.