The third task was approaching with a vengeance, time dripping away like water in their cupped hands. No matter how they tried to hold onto it, it slipped through every crack it could find. Winona could see Harry sinking into a pit of nerves and did her best to keep him afloat.

They trained every spare minute, only leaving the Transfiguration room when McGonagall forced them out. With Winona overseeing most of his practise, Hermione and Ron were able to get time in to study for final exams. Hermione was grateful, although Ron looked disappointed that he didn't have an excuse not to work. Winona could relate.

So that's where Winona and Harry were found the day before the final task. In the Transfiguration classroom practising spells on nearly-obliterated test dummies. Harry was casting his spells with a higher degree of enthusiasm, but Winona could tell it was nerves, rather than any sort of renewed work-ethic.

Harry shot another Reductor Curse at the dummy, which was blasted violently out of his path. "I think you've got that one covered," Winona said from the corner where she was halfheartedly sketching on a piece of parchment. "Wanna try the Shield Charm? I'll send a Killing Curse your way to up the stakes."

Anybody else wouldn't have dared bring up the curse that had obliterated Harry's life and left him permanently scarred as a result. But Winona was different – she knew tiptoeing around the subject didn't make it any easier for Harry to live with. Besides, deflecting pain with humour? When you spent every day with the Weasley twins, it came to be all but natural instinct.

Harry pulled a face in her direction. "Funny," he said dryly.

She twirled her wand gracefully around her fingers. "Wanna see if lightning strikes twice?" she asked, wagging her eyebrows teasingly.

"I'm going to curse your eyebrows off if you keep going," Harry warned her. Winona only laughed.

"Hard at work, I see," came her favourite voice, and she looked up to see Fred and George stood in the doorway, watching them.

"Well, Harry's practically an expert by now," she said, scooping her things into her bag and threading the strap over her shoulder. She climbed to her feet, crossing the distance between them and hopping onto her toes to press a kiss on Fred's cheek in greeting. "I figure this is just revision."

Fred took her hand as George pushed past them, heading further into the room full of obliterated practise dummies and split couch cushions. "You mastered the Knee-Reversal Hex yet?" he asked Harry eagerly.

Harry blinked. "I didn't even know that hex existed," he admitted, turning to look at Winona, who was leant in the doorway beside Fred. "Magic can be terrifying sometimes."

"Too right," she agreed before turning to her impish best friend. "George, he's not gonna need the Knee-Reversal Hex in the third task," she said, exasperated.

"You don't know that for sure," George argued. "It could be just the thing that gets him out of trouble!"

"There are a million other spells more important for him to learn," she said sternly, before turning to Harry with amusement dancing in her eyes. "Unless you wanted to stay behind longer and work on that one. George is a very good tutor."

Now Harry looked uncomfortable. "Er, I think I'll be all right, thanks."

"Suit yourself," said George with a shrug. "But when you're facing off with a hag in that maze and the only thing between you and assured survival is a hex aimed right at the knees, you'll be sorry."

It was enough to make Harry laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Come on," said Fred, gripping Winona's hand tightly. "Lunch'll be over soon, and you need to eat before Care of Magical Creatures, or you'll throw up riding a Pegasus again."

Winona scowled. "I told you that in confidence."

Fred's only answer was an innocent beam, and she ignored Harry and George's snickering from behind them. People stared as they walked by, but to Winona's relief they were more focused on Harry. She and Fred had steadily become old news, and now they could walk down the hall with barely a snickered remark from the other students.

Harry hated it, especially when a group of Slytherins flashed their ancient Potter Stinks badges in his face as they passed. Fred flicked his wand once their attention redirected and laughed at their screams of horror when sardines began to shoot from their noses.

"Ignore them, Harry," Winona encouraged him, letting go of Fred's hand to throw an arm over Harry's shoulders, pulling him into a side-hug. They were the same height now, and she knew it wasn't going to be long before he overtook her completely. "They're just jealous you're getting all the attention."

Harry made a sound of frustration. "They can have it," he declared. "It's not like I want it."

If there was a way for Winona to take away the attention and scrutiny her cousin was under, she would siphon it all away, every last drop, until Harry was nothing but a normal, ordinary, unexceptional boy. But even with all the magic in the world at her fingertips, it wasn't possible. Harry Potter was a household name; so was Sirius Black, for that matter.

"Is it weird I'm not famous?" she wondered aloud, making Harry shrug off her arm so he could properly look at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, y'know, cause you and Padfoot are so famous. I'm the odd one out. It's weird, right?"

"Padfoot's infamous," George corrected her, swooping in because neither twin could stand not to be the centre of attention at all times, always. "And that's because he's wanted for mass murder. I don't think that's the kind of thing you should strive for in life, Win."

And he certainly had a point – but so did she. "I'm just saying, I feel kinda left out," she said lightly, retaking Fred's hand, swinging them in the space between their hips. "Maybe I should rob a bank or something."

"Please don't rob a bank," Fred begged her. "I don't think I could visit you in Azkaban. And even if I could, I doubt they'd let us snog through the bars."

Harry made a loud gagging noise and Winona laughed, kicking her cousin in the shin and squeezing Fred's hand tightly. "All right," she agreed playfully. "Even though, by this point it's pretty much the family business, I won't become a wanted criminal – just for you."

"That's all I ask," Fred nodded sombrely.

Harry shook his head. "You two are ridiculous," he murmured, but there was a small smile on his face that told Winona he didn't hate it quite as much as he pretended to.

"Theoretically, if you were to rob a bank, which were you planning to rob?" George asked. "Because, I hate to say it, but I think you'd just get yourself killed trying to break into Gringotts."

"It'd have to be a Muggle bank for sure," Harry chimed in. "Hagrid himself told me there's no bank safer in the world than Gringotts."

Winona's vision began to flicker and her hand went slack in Fred's grip. She felt her feet come to a halt, but other than that the awareness of her body was gone, disappeared in a flash. She was having a vision, one she'd been in before. She couldn't see anything clearly, but she could hear – as if from a faraway distance – the shattering of glass and the great, echoing roar of a dragon.

"Win?" asked Fred, tugging at her hand, concerned.

Winona blinked back to the present, looking automatically to her lap to find no sketchbook in sight. It appeared she hadn't been out of it long – mere moments had passed. Harry and the twins were staring at her warily.

"Hm?" she hummed, disorientated.

"You'll need the dragon," said Fred, a frown pinching at his brow. "That's what you just said."

She tilted her head. "Did I?"

"Who needs the dragon? And when?" asked Harry, anxiety written clear as day across his face. "Does it have something to do with the task tomorrow?"

"Nah, they wouldn't give you a dragon twice. That'd be boring," said George callously. But Harry just stared at Winona, eyes wide and pleading, desperate for answers.

"Sorry," she told him quickly. "I don't know. It was brief…but it seemed kind of distant. Usually when it seems that far away from me, it means it's in the distant future. So I wouldn't worry about it too much just yet."

Despite her reassurance, Harry still looked vaguely ill.

They arrived at the Great Hall, but Winona grabbed at Harry's hand, keeping him out in the entrance hall. "I promise, you don't need to stress," she swore. "Whoever needs a dragon, and whatever they need it for – it's far away from now. Let's focus on getting you through the rest of this godforsaken tournament. Then – and only then – will we worry about the future."

"Now you sound like Sirius," he told her, a tiny bit impish.

Sirius had kept up a constant correspondence with the two of them. He would put his messages to them both in one letter, trying to minimise the chance of it getting intercepted, and Winona and Harry would sit up in the common room late at night reading and replying to his notes.

Harry's mostly consisted of Harry stressing about Voldemort and his Death Eaters, while Winona's were of a more vague nature.

Sirius would ask if she was okay, if she was doing well in her classes. For awhile it was awkward, but eventually they found a good rhythm. She would simply write down the funniest or most interesting thing that had happened in her day, and when Sirius responded, it was usually with an anecdote of his own school days.

Reminds me of the time James and I tried to shrink the Giant Squid…

Hermione sounds like Remus after a particularly bad full moon…only all of the time…

This Ginny girl makes me think of Lily – and how one time she hexed James so thoroughly that he couldn't look at leeks without throwing up for years…

By unspoken agreement, they kept from bringing up Winona's mother – Jessica Potter, James' older sister by not quite a year – and kept to much safer topics. They also stayed far from talking about the time she spent with her parents as a baby. She'd been three when Voldemort had attacked, separating them, and Winona was relieved that Sirius seemed to understand what little she remembered was an out-of-bounds subject.

Fred's hand tugging at her drew her back to the moment, and she let him drag her into the Great Hall after Harry and George. "See you," Winona said to Harry, ruffling his hair playfully. He ducked out of her reach and made for where Ron and Hermione were sitting before she could embarrass him any more.

She and the twins took seats at the table opposite the girls – Lee over at the Ravenclaw table, chatting up his latest victim – and Winona eagerly pulled food onto her plate. "Where've you been?" Hope asked, looking up from the Potions textbook she was cradling. "We've barely seen you at lunch in a month."

"Helping Harry prepare for the task tomorrow," Winona told her around a mouthful of bread.

Hope scowled. "Is that even allowed?"

"What are you gonna do, report me?" Winona snorted with amusement. Hope rolled her eyes, turning back to her book while Angelina and Alicia laughed.

Care of Magical Creatures was rather standard. With exams all but finished with, all they were working on was lazy revision. The class was too abuzz with excitement for the final task the coming day anyway, so Hagrid gave up only a few minutes in and let them do as they pleased.

Winona and Fred drifted away from the rest of the class – most of whom were screeching and running away from Lee, who was holding a handful of mud and threatening to lob it at their faces. The couple took a seat at the base of a nearby tree. Winona pulled out her sketchbook and began to lazily sketch the scene before her, laid in the cradle of Fred's arms while he affectionately tugged at her hair.

"What's going to happen over the Summer?" Fred wondered suddenly, and she looked up from where she was trying to get Lee's dreadlocks just right. He was staring, twisting a lock of her hair around his index finger.

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning her attention back to her work.

"Well, what's your plan? With Sirius not having a…permanent address," he said, surprisingly delicate, "you won't be able to live with him right away, will you?"

Winona blinked down at her drawing, surprised by the sombre topic. He brought up a good point. Now that she was 17 – a legal adult in the eyes of the Ministry – she was under no obligation to stay at her foster house. She was free; she could go anywhere, be anyone. It was a rather harrowing thought; she felt at once rather drunk on it.

"I s'pose not," she agreed mildly. "I haven't really given it much thought. Maybe Sirius and I can rent a motel room or something. I doubt the dementors will think to look in any seedy Muggle motels."

She was still staring down at her work, and Fred's fingers continued to twist and pull gently at her hair, but she got the feeling he wanted to ask her something he couldn't quite find the words for.

"Spit it out," she said, her voice light.

"Well, would you wanna come live at the Burrow?"

Winona's pencil froze where it was pressed against the parchment of her sketchbook. "Live…at…the…Burrow?" she asked stiltedly, feeling oddly like the words were in another language altogether.

"You already spend half your Summers there anyway," Fred reasoned. "And that way we wouldn't have to do this long-distance."

Winona did nothing to smother her grin. "Fred, your mum's not going to let me move in with you."

"Sure she is. She loves you," he said cheerfully.

"As your best friend, yes," she countered. "But as your girlfriend?" Something occurred to her and she felt the blood begin to drain from her face. "Oh Merlin," she breathed. "Have you told your mum we're dating?"

Fred's expression pinched in confusion. "Yeah?"

Winona tipped her head backwards until it smacked against his chin, but she didn't care, groaning like somebody had lopped off her arm. "You told her in a letter? Oh shit, I should have sent her a letter too, right? What if she's mad at me? Should I have written to her sooner? What if I-?"

"Win," Fred stopped her with his hands smoothing down the length of her arms. "She's my mum, not my keeper. She wrote back and told me she was thrilled, and that I'd better be a perfect gentlemen or she'd curse my bollocks off."

Winona leaned back far enough to stare at him. "She said that?"

"Not in so many words, but I read between the lines."

Shaking her head, Winona sank back into his arms. "It's just weird, is all. I feel like the dynamic's gonna change."

"It'll be fine, Win," he assured her, beginning to knead his hands into the tense muscles at her shoulders. "You're overthinking it."

"I think you're under-thinking it."

Fred smiled into her hair. "Agree to disagree."

They fell back into silence, and Winona slowly returned to her work, dragging the graphite of her pencil against the parchment. It soothed her, along with Fred's clever hands on her back, and soon enough she was soft and pliant in him once again.

But this time Fred was the one with the revelation, and his hands froze on her shoulders. She hummed curiously, looking over her shoulder at him with a raised brow. "How much does he know about me?"

Winona blinked. "Who?"

"Sirius," Fred said, cornflower eyes wide.

"Well, it's not like I've told him about the mole on your thigh," she told him, and his ears went red. He sent her his best scolding look, but it was about as intimidating as a leprechaun in tap shoes. "He knows who you are; that you're my boyfriend and all. Said the Weasleys were a good bunch, and wanted to know if you treat me right. I said yes," she added reassuringly. But Fred didn't look reassured. "Why do you look like you're laying an egg?"

"Your dad isn't just any dad, Win," he said, as if she wasn't aware. "He's Sirius Black."

"Shh," Winona hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the class. Nobody was paying them any attention, or was even close enough to hear, too busy playing a game of Exploding Snap on the stoop of Hagrid's hut while the gentle giant himself watched on with a shaking head. "Someone might hear."

"Nobody's listening."

Winona rolled her eyes and shut her sketchbook, twisting around in his lap so she could look at him properly. "Why is his name so frightening?"

His hands settled into place at her hips, and her heart gave a little leap. "You grew up as a Muggle, so you wouldn't know," he explained. "But everyone knew about Sirius Black: Infamous Death Eater, and how he killed twelve people with a single curse. It's kind of hard to separate that Sirius from the one who's your dad."

"But he didn't actually do those things," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but after years of thinking he did…it's just a little daunting. Besides, the bloke's been in Azkaban for over a decade."

She cocked her brow again. "Your point?"

"Well – what if I – y'know, hurt you? I mean, I never would intentionally, but by accident? What if I mess up somehow? Do you think he'll murder me?"

Winona had to laugh. "Fred, you're not gonna hurt me."

"Let's face it, it's probably gonna happen at some point," he insisted, more stressed than she'd seen him in a long time. "Me being me, and all. I'll act cavalier when I shouldn't, make light of something serious, and you'll get hurt and I'll get my bollocks cursed off by both of our parents."

Winona stared into his face for a minute, trailing her eyes over the freckles dusting his cheeks like icing sugar on a pastry and the way his eyes glittered in the sunlight streaming down through the trees. "I guess the only solution is for you to promise not to hurt me," she said simply.

"I make that promise every day," he told her fervently. "What if it's not enough?"

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him appraisingly. "You're really that scared you're gonna fuck this up?"

"It haunts me," he said, half playful, half sincere.

She reached up, taking his pale face in her hands and brushing her thumbs over the freckles smattered beneath his eyes. "We're gonna be okay, Fred," she promised him.

But he didn't want to hear it. "You can't know that."

She forced him to look at her again. "Yes I can," she said stubbornly. "I'm a Seer, remember? I'm the authority on any and all future matters. If I say we'll be okay, we'll be okay."

And Fred gazed at her like he never wanted to stop, and she wondered if he saw the same thing in her eyes that she saw in his. The thing she was too afraid to put a name to, scared that if she did the nirvana they'd settled into would shatter like glass.

To compensate, she pressed a kiss to his lips. Keeping it chaste – considering where they were, and the audience they had – Winona reluctantly pulled back, smiling at him softly. "It's you and me, Freddie," she promised him.

And when Fred smiled, it wasn't just with his lips. Dimples appeared in his cheeks and the skin around his eyes crinkled and the blue of his irises seemed to come alive, shifting and flowing like the waves of the ocean. And she fell just a little more in love.

He reached up and she fell still, letting him touch her hair. She was surprised when he pulled back, revealing a small beetle caught between his fingertips. "It's meant to be good luck to find a beetle in your hair," he told her quietly.

"You're making that up," she accused.

"Am not," he insisted, holding out his hand and letting the beetle take off into the air. It seemed awfully keen to get away, little wings buzzing as it fled.

After that bludge of a Care of Magical Creatures class, Winona, Fred and Lee met up with George on their way up to the common room, where he was just coming from Muggle Studies.

"Why do you insist on taking that class?" Winona wondered as they made their way up the changing staircases towards the Tower that served as their home for nine months out of the year. "It can't possibly be teaching you anything worthwhile."

"It's a laugh," said George stubbornly.

They put away their school supplies and played a few rounds of Gobstones until it was time to head down to dinner. The twins led the way, while Winona hung back with Alicia and Lee, both of whom were eagerly discussing the task that was set to take place at lunch the very next day.

By now everyone knew it was a maze the champions had to conquer, because trying to keep a secret at Hogwarts was like trying to hold down a hot air balloon with nothing but your bare hands – pointless and impossible.

"Of course my money's on Harry," said Alicia passionately. "Don't tell me yours is on Cedric."

"Harry's great, but he's only fourteen. Cedric's seventeen. You gotta admit, Leesh, the odds aren't in Harry's favour," argued Lee.

"Were the odds in his favour back when he was a defenceless baby and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to use the Killing Curse to destroy him?" she countered without missing a beat.

Winona laughed as Lee tried and failed to form a worthy response. "Face it, Lee," she said, clapping him companionably on the shoulder. "Destroyed-You-Know-Who-as-a-baby has no good counter argument."

"All right," Lee gave up. "I cave. You'll find my wit at a gravestone marked with Here Lies Lee Jordan's Wit. It Died As It Lived; Woefully Under-Appreciated."

Alicia laughed too, rolling her eyes. "You're such a drama queen."

But Winona couldn't hear them beyond the strange roaring in her ears. A mix of specific noises that all blurred together into something like the rushing of a river by her head. The crackling of a fire, the low groans of somebody in pain, the screams of many voices at once, the sound of wind through nearby trees. Somebody was crying, sobbing uncontrollably, and it hit her hard. If she'd been able to find her eyes, she was sure she'd find them leaking.

The heat of close by flames and a searing pain in her forearm. Cold wind on her face and the reek of nothing but death and rot. Winona thought she was going to choke on the stench of it.

It was all happening so quickly. There was fear and shouting and screams of exertion. Bile climbing up a throat that wasn't her own, panic welling in a chest that wasn't hers, threatening to explode out with all the force of a deadly firework.

Then it was over and she was sucked back through the aether that she'd always said made up the river of time. The Power-That-Be deposited her back into her body and she came out of the vision like somebody breaching the surface of the water.

An arm was hooked around her shoulders and the whole left side of her body was warm with the feeling of another body pressed to hers. Another hand was stroking down her back, a repetitive, soothing motion that calmed her.

"Win?" Fred's voice breathed in her ear, and she opened her eyes to find him sat beside her, concern in his eyes. Alicia was leant over her too, soothing her hand down her back. Glancing up, she saw Lee and George standing around them like their personal security guards, glaring at anybody who stopped to gawk. "Win? You back?" Fred pressed gently.

"Yeah," she said, hoarse from screams she hadn't made.

In her lap sat her sketchbook, and she stared down at the scene she'd drawn. It was just a cauldron, a fire lit beneath it, the liquid within bubbling. There was no colour, but in her mind's eye Winona could see the black matt of the cauldron and the milky white of the liquid inside.

The sketch itself gave away nothing about the prediction, but the sketch itself wasn't important. The real prediction was locked away in her head, whispered to her in a language without words. Winona felt her heart still racing from the vision, and she felt vaguely like she might throw up.

"Blimey, Winnie," breathed Alicia, looking disturbed. "Are you okay?"

"I have to go see Dumbledore," was all she said.

"We'll walk you," Lee offered immediately.

"No, it's fine."

"Win," said Fred, reproachful.

"Really, it's fine," she insisted sternly, climbing swiftly to her feet, distractedly ignoring the hand Fred had held out to help. "Go down to dinner. I'll meet you there."

George peered at her warily, Fred's mouth was twisted in a frown, and the rest of her friends looked varying degrees of perplexed, but Winona ignored it all. None of it was important – none of it – in light of what she'd just Seen.

Her friends still hesitated, but Winona was beyond hanging around to convince them. She turned on her heel and just began to walk. She wanted to run, everything inside of her telling her to get there faster, so she might have a chance at stopping her vision from coming true.

As she climbed the main staircase towards Dumbledore's office, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see Fred hadn't stubbornly followed. She didn't doubt that he'd wanted to, but if she was right – and she generally was – then George had managed to talk him into giving her space. It was for the best, because as much as she'd have loved a hand to hold, this burden was hers alone.

She sped up, pulse beating loudly in her ears.

Surely Dumbledore would take her seriously. Surely he would do what he should have done from the start and put an end to this ridiculous tournament. She wished she knew how he would react, but her head was already swimming from one prediction. She didn't have the space within her to search for another.

The halls were devoid of life, teachers and students alike all down at dinner, no doubt abuzz with gossip and excitement about the final task happening in the morning. Usually she didn't mind it when the halls were quiet, but now it was too empty, the silence ringing in her ears like a noise in and of itself. Winona grit her teeth and soldiered forwards.

She was just passing the Defence classroom – only a floor from Dumbledore's office – when a figure limped out of a doorway, into her path. Winona stumbled to a stop. "Professor Moody," she said, her breaths coming fast from the unexpected exercise of jogging up three flights of castle stairs.

"Is everything all right?" he asked her, gnarled fingers curled around the tip of his walking stick, a snarl on his face. "You look rather worried."

"I – yeah – I need to see Dumbledore – it's rather urgent-"

"Have you had a vision?" Moody demanded as she tried to edge around him, stepping into her path, keeping her where she was.

"Erm, yeah," she said, heart racing in her chest, thundering like it sensed danger and wanted to escape to safety. Her palms were slick with sweat and she wiped them on her robes. "It's really important-"

"Was it about the final task?"

Winona fell still, unsure how to respond. "Sort of," she told him. "That's why I need to get to Dumbledore. Someone's in danger-"

"Who?"

She met his one good eye with a blink of surprise. The way he's barked question had been unexpected. He seemed angry, nearly vibrating with the force of it, and she watched carefully as he pulled free his usual flask and tossed back a mouthful of whatever was inside.

"I don't know yet," she confessed. "But I think – I know – that someone's going to die, so I have to get Dumbledore to stop the-"

Moody surprised her again, this time by laughing. It was an odd sound, a mix between a snarl and a wheeze. He leaned his weight against his walking stick, the grin on his twisted lips anything but pleasant.

"Something funny, sir?" she asked slowly, heart still racing in her chest, this time with even more desperation. Like it knew something she didn't.

"Yes, actually," Moody growled with another ugly chuckle.

Thoroughly weirded out, Winona began to edge around him again. "Right, well, if you don't mind, I've got to-"

Moody pulled his wand on her before she could react. She was so shocked, she had no idea how to react. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, let alone pull her own wand free from the bun atop her head in retaliation.

"Sir?" she asked slowly, hands held up in the way people always did in Muggle cop movies, when they had a gun pulled on them.

Moody's ugly face twisted into something truly furious, and his good eye gleamed like he loathed her with everything he had in him. Winona's hands began to shake and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was too far away to attack him physically, and too close to pull her own wand or run – both choices of which ended only with her on the nasty end of a curse.

What the hell was Moody doing?

"I've worked far too hard for some scum like you to ruin everything," Moody sneered at her, his wand steady in his hand, uneven teeth exposed in a snarl.

Her eyes widened and she stared at him, realising she was really, properly in trouble. "Professor – what in the actual the hell is going-?"

He cast a nonverbal stunning curse, and all Winona saw was a jet of blinding light before she hit the hard, unforgiving stone wall of the corridor. Pain flared at her ribs as they cracked under the assault, and she felt the back of her head smack hard against the wall. Her world went black before she'd even slid to the floor.

She wasn't sure how long she was out for; it could have been hours or it might have been mere minutes.

Winona dreamt.

She saw a graveyard, dark and misty and haunting. The saw a cauldron full of white potion, watching as it bubbled and frothed. She saw men all around her, silvery masks on their faces and great, black cloaks shrouding their figures in darkness.

The world was wrong, wrong, wrong. All around her the graveyard reeked to sweat and blood and rot. A man, shouting something, bright lights. Somebody screaming, "Cedric!"

She could see the corpse, laid flat on the dead grass. The Hufflepuff jersey he wore was clean of blood, but he was dead all the same, handsome face slack and lifeless as his opened eyes stared unseeingly up at the clouded sky.

Dead dead dead he's dead Cedric died and Harry oh god where was Harry-

She was brought to by a stinging pain on her face, and Winona opened her eyes in the present with a sharp gasp, tasting blood in her mouth. She tried to bring her hands up to cradle her aching cheek, but they were bound. Slowly but surely, her blurry vision began to clear, and the form of Moody hovering over her came into focus.

Her brain was foggy, her skull throbbing from its contact with the wall and her ribs burning in protest every time she breathed too deeply. "Moody?" she rasped, struggling to make sense of it all. Where was she?

Looking around the room, she realised she recognised it – but only in the vaguest sense. They were in the Defence teacher's office. It looked darker than it had in the past, when Lockhart or Lupin had been using it. Then it had been a welcoming place. Now, it was just cold.

Moody clicked his stubby fingers in her face, but it still took a great deal of concentration for her to return her focus to him. His figure swam in front of her eyes, and the room felt like it were spinning. Her face flared with pain and she had to swallow back mouthful of blood, very nearly gagging in the process.

"What is this?" she demanded hoarsely, staring up at a sneering Moody, fear like a potion bubbling in her veins. "What's going on?"

"This is your own fault, Miss Black," Moody told her, looking so frustrated with her, so disgusted, that it made him look even uglier than usual. "If you hadn't been on your way to the Headmaster… If you hadn't had your little vision… Well, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?"

She stared at him, wondering if he'd escaped from a bloody asylum. "What in the hell are you talking about?" she asked him, slow and deliberate, making sure he understood. "Who are you?"

"That's not important," not-Moody snapped. He reached behind him, gripping a small stool and dragging it towards her so he had somewhere to sit. Winona tried to scoot away from him, but her back was already pressed to a wall. There was nowhere to go. "I need to know everything, Miss Black. Everything you know."

"Well, for starters, there's no word in the English language that rhymes with 'orange'-"

Suddenly there was pain. That was all there was in the whole wide world. Just the kind of pain she'd never even heard of, the kind she could never have imagined. It was like someone had replaced her blood with a corrosive acid. Or she'd been flayed alive and left to rot. Or she'd fallen from the Astronomy Tower into a pit full of needles. Or she was being burned at the stake, Salem-witch style.

Or, she realised, exactly like the Crutiatus Curse.

It was over after a short eternity, and she relaxed her muscles, not having realised she'd tensed them. There wasn't even relief now the curse was lifted; her body still ached and stung from the damage it had caused. For a moment, she'd forgotten what life was like without the pain.

"Well," she panted, struggling to keep her breathing even and her tone blithely cheerful, "if you don't want stupid answers, then just don't ask stupid questions."

Not-Moody stared at her, that same maybe-smile twisting his ugly lips. "You've got fire," he said, fingering the wand he held in his fat, gnarled hands. "He'll like that. Or rather, he'll like putting it out."

Winona tried to speak, but her throat burned. She cleared it and tried again. "Enigmatic much?" she snapped. "Can you give a straight answer for once in your life?"

Not-Moody looked almost gleeful as he leant towards her, and that was the scariest part. She'd never seen that look on his face before – except, perhaps, when he'd been torturing that spider in their first Defence lesson. He'd looked just as thrilled to be inflicting pain then, too.

She marvelled at her own stupidity; how could she ever think he was one of the good guys?

"Who are you?" she asked again, voice still little more than a rasp.

Not-Moody gave his chilling leer and replied, "I'm the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. I have won his favour this last year, putting Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire, orchestrating the fate of this entire tournament just to get the Dark Lord the time with Potter that he needed to bring himself back to full power. And just think how he will reward me for bringing him you…"

Winona blinked. "Me?" she asked, a note of confusion getting past the foggy terror and the burning pain, enough to bewilder her. "What does You-Know-Who want with me?"

"To have you in his service," said Not-Moody. "To have you help him on his path to bring the Wizarding World into a new age-"

"I'd rather die than lift a single finger to help that murderous psychopath so much as sharpen a pencil," she snarled.

Not-Moody didn't seem perturbed. He smiled, as if he found her amusing. "Then you will die," he said like it was of no concern to him. "Because if the Dark Lord cannot have your power, then rest assured that on one will."

"Brilliant," she sneered. "I'll certainly sleep better knowing that."

Not-Moody ignored her. "What have you Seen of today's events?"

Winona saw the truth in the words. "It's the day of the final task?!" she asked shrilly. "You've kept me unconscious for a whole night?!"

Not-Moody jabbed his wand at her, its tip poking her hard in the jugular, a warning and a threat. "What have you Seen?" he asked again, and there was no question what would happen to her if she didn't answer him properly.

"Someone's going to die today," she ground out through gritted teeth.

A glee like none other flared in Not-Moody's eyes. "Who?" he asked greedily.

"I don't know-"

The tip of his wand pressed hard enough into her throat that it made it hard to breathe. "Don't lie now, Black," he said carefully, in no uncertain terms.

"Why shouldn't I?" she spat. "You'll kill me either way-"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Not-Moody growled. "I assure you that whether you like it or not, by the end of the day, I'll have you gift-wrapped for the Dark Lord – bows and all."

Winona sneered up at him. "You're a real sick bastard, you know that?"

His wand jabbed again at her throat, and the pressure made her cough. "Who dies today?"

She said nothing; not because the information was too valuable, or dangerous for him to have, but rather because she was too stubborn for her own good. Not-Moody may very well drag her to the feet of Voldemort himself, but that didn't mean she was going to go quietly.

She wondered, suddenly, where her friends were. Maybe they'd thought she'd stayed up late with Dumbledore, so they likely wouldn't have worried – she often disappeared for short periods of time, sketching or meditating or just in one of her moods – but she couldn't imagine Fred wasn't worried.

He knew she'd have come to see him when she got back from Dumbledore. He knew she wouldn't leave Harry's side amongst the chaos of the final task. He had to know something was wrong. But there was nothing linking her to Moody, no way he or anyone else would stop to think he was involved.

She considered the Map, but remembered with a stab of bitter frustration that Not-Moody still had it in his possession. There would be no miraculous rescue, or at least, if there would be, she hadn't Seen it yet.

"Who's going to die today, Black?!" Not-Moody roared, all spittle and breath that smelt like something died. Winona flinched back, but even she wasn't stupid enough to try distracting him again.

"Cedric Diggory," she blurted, remembering the blinding agony of the Crutiatus Curse. Could she handle another one? Would she survive it with her sanity intact? "Wormtail kills Cedric Diggory today."

Not-Moody's expression turned thunderous. "And Potter?"

She hesitated, and it was enough to have Not-Moody raising his wand, the Unforgivable Curse sat ready on his tongue-

"I don't know!" she shouted desperately, a shudder rolling through her skeleton. She shut her eyes, picturing the view from atop the Astronomy Tower. It was a nicer sight than the one before her now. "I mean it, I don't. All I Saw was Diggory. That's all I know, I swear."

Not-Moody grinned. "So you can be obedient," he said, and Winona felt the strong urge to gag again, swallowing it back with a great deal of effort. "The Dark Lord will be pleased."

Winona glowered up at him hatefully. Her heart raced so furiously, so loudly, she could hear it pounding in her ears, nearly drowning out every other sound. "You might as well kill me now," she spat up at Not-Moody. "Because I'll kill myself before becoming an agent of Voldemort."

"You dare speak his name?!" Not-Moody snarled, jabbing his wand at her again, this time following through.

The world dissolved into nothing but pain. There was only the agony, nothing else. She tried to think about something else – laughing with George, ruffling Harry's untameable hair, kissing Fred – but in the end there was only the pain. It was so strong, it washed away even her memories.

After an eternity the pain disappeared, and Winona was left gasping for breath, the world a fuzzy haze around her. Slowly her sense of hearing returned, and she listened as some nearby clock chimed.

"Ah, that'll be the start of breakfast," said Not-Moody, far too cheerful, far too dark. Winona hated him. She wanted his blood. "Don't worry, Miss Black," he pressed on. "Only a few more hours, and we'll know both our fates."

Before she could ask what he meant – doubtlessly in some unnecessarily smart-arse way – Moody flicked his wand.

She tried to hold onto consciousness, but whatever curse he'd cast was powerful.

As the universe faded to black, Winona thought of Harry, and how much she hated herself for not being able to stop any of this in time. She thought of her cousin, facing Voldemort in that graveyard alone, and then she almost welcomed the enchanted sleep, because the darkness was better than the pain of knowing Harry's fate was beyond her control.

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I've been away awhile, life gets in the way sometimes, doesn't it? Slightly shorter chapter here, I hope you don't mind. To make up for the shorter one, I'll update with the next one within a day or two, and it'll be way longer than this way.

I haven't been getting as many reviews lately, so I really hope you guys are all still enjoying the story! I'd love to hear your thoughts/theories/ideas. Can't wait to get deeper into the story as we go on. There's still SO MUCH to come!

Spotlight review: Womaninthemoonandherdog: thanks so much for your review – and wow, kudos for being right on the mark with your theory! I've had this planned for awhile, and the effects of this chapter are going to be felt for awhile yet. I'm glad you like my story, and thanks for the constructive criticism – I do sometimes find Winnie can be a little like that, but being that the majority of the story is written from her POV, it's a little harder to write about her flaws, because she isn't the type to think and obsessed about them like some people. She's got plenty of other things to deal with! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoyed!