So Close to Magic

by Sonny13

Winona was new to the whole 'magic' thing, but she was pretty sure that even by Hogwarts' standards, drawing the future was freaky. She's content just to let her secret gather dust in a dark corner of her mind, but as she soon learns, the future waits for nobody, and when the young boy from her visions finally arrives at Hogwarts, the real work begins. Fred/OC

53. I have no interest in glory

A/N: Hey guys, just letting you know that this one sticks a little closer to canon than usual, but there's still nuggets that it's worth reading for! An essential chapter in the story, menial though it may be. See you at the bottom!

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The two days following passed at what felt like a glacial pace. Dumbledore had told her under no circumstances to mention any of his plan to the twins or anyone else in the house. The people in the room that night – plus a select few in the Order – were the only ones permitted to know.

It would have taken Winona a lot to agree had the threat of death-by-unbreakable-vow not hovered dangerously over her neck. The twins knew something was up, but they didn't press her, too afraid it would lead to consequences none of them could ever take back. However, on the afternoon of the attack, the two of them found Winona in her room, pulling on a pair of sneakers.

"Going somewhere?" Fred asked as he gracelessly threw himself onto the bed at her side. George was more refined, leaning against the wall and watching them with a smirk. "Nice trip up to the attic, perhaps?"

"I'm going out, actually," Winona told them, keeping her eyes on her laces as she tied them.

"Out?" asked Fred, surprise colouring his voice. "You mean, out out?"

"Order business," she shrugged.

"They have you on active missions now?" George asked. "That's wicked – you're like a proper Auror. You'll be getting all the glory soon, mark my words."

Winona rolled her eyes. "I have no interest in glory."

"Come on," goaded Fred. "Where're you off to?"

Winona just made a zipping motion across her lips, forcing out a smirk.

"Fine," huffed George. "Keep your secrets. But if you come back to find we've chopped all your pencils in half in retaliation, don't be surprised."

She rolled her eyes again. "I've gotta go," she told them. "I'm expected."

"By who?"

Winona smirked. "It's almost like you want me to die," she teased, and George grimaced at the joking implication. She leant down to press a chaste kiss to Fred's lips. "Don't wait up."

"Oh, don't worry about us," said Fred with a theatrical stretch. "We'll just use the extra space up here in your room to make up a new batch of order forms. And if you come back to realise we're still awake – well, that'll have nothing to do with you, now will it?"

Unable to help herself, Winona laughed. She kissed him once more, memorising the taste of his lips – like fruit, from their lunch that afternoon – and the way the tiniest hint of stubble scraped against her soft skin.

"I'll see you soon," she told them, climbing to her feet.

But George stepped in front of the doorway, a frown on his face. "Promise you'll be safe?" he asked hopefully.

She reached up, patting him on the cheek affectionately. "Where's the fun in that?"

Sirius and Remus were waiting for her downstairs, stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wary looks on their faces. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Sirius asked the moment she appeared. "You can still decide to stay here – where it's safe."

"I'm going," she said, endlessly stubborn – and they both knew it was a trait she'd gotten from him.

"Yeah," Sirius smiled wryly. "Thought as much. You've definitely got it?"

Winona patted the pocket where she'd stashed the artefact he'd lent her, and he smiled gladly.

Mrs Weasley wasn't there to see her off. Things between the two of them had been strained since the two days prior. Winona was avoiding approaching her, afraid the Weasley matriarch was angry with her. Winona had sort of shouted at her. She felt almost embarrassed by her behaviour. Fred assured her multiple times that his mother was just cooling off, that she'd be fine in a few days. Winona just hoped to Merlin he was right.

Before she could leave, Remus held up a small packet of something. "You're facing dementors," he reminded her. "You're going to need this."

Taking it from his fingers, she flipped it over to reveal it to be a small bar of milk chocolate. "Thanks, Moony," she said warmly. He looked a little awkward at her gratitude, smiling and shuffling to give her room to head for the door. "See you at pick up, I s'pose."

Sirius pulled her into a tight hug before she could leave. "Remember, if anything goes wrong, you Apparate a minimum of three times to throw anyone off your trail, then come straight back here to go back into hiding."

"I know," she assured him, squeezed him back firmly before carefully extracting herself from his arms.

"Give Harry my best," he added.

"He'll be here by tonight."

"Give them to him anyway."

And with that Winona was given the all-clear to leave the house. She tentatively stepped onto the road, leaving the protective bubble that 12 Grimmauld Place provided. She didn't feel safe like she had the other night with Fred. This time she just felt alone and completely exposed to all the dangers in the big bad outside world.

Reaching the other side of the street, she turned back to Grimmauld Place, finding it disappeared back into non-existence. It gave her a tiny degree of comfort. Most of her family was safe; now she only had Harry to worry about.

She shut her eyes and thought of the place she'd seen the attack happen in her vision. It took a few minutes of calm deliberation before finally she felt ready to Apparate. Taking a deep breath in, Winona gripped her wand tightly and twisted on the spot.

She reappeared in the alleyway from her vision, finding that – for once in her life – she was actually right on time.

"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry was snarling at the whale of a boy that was Dudley, the tip of his wand pressed threateningly against his cousin's heart. "D'you understand me?"

Dudley gave a whimper of fright. "Point that thing somewhere else!"

"I said, do you understand me?"

"Point it somewhere else!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM–"

"Oi!" Winona shouted over the top of the two squabbling boys. So involved in their fight, neither had even heard the telltale pop as she'd materialised in the alleyway beside them. Dudley made another whimpering noise while Harry just turned to gape at her.

"Winnie?" he asked, blinking rapidly, as if it all might have been some strangely advanced optical illusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I wish I could say this was a social call, Cuz," she said, shooting Dudley a grin that was edged with molten steel. "But unfortunately, you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle. I'm here to help you out of it."

Harry opened his mouth – probably to ask what the hell she was talking about – when the cold fell over them like a blanket made of ice and the starry evening sky went completely black.

"Oh no," whispered Harry.

"Oh yeah," Winona whispered back, holding out her wand, ready to use it. She might not be able to produce a Patronus Charm, but if they thought she'd go down easy, these cloaked bastards had another thing coming.

"W-what are you d-doing?" stammered Dudley, cowering against the wall behind them. "St-stop it!"

"We're not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!" Harry hissed.

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind!"

"I said shut up!" Harry turned to Winona, and even though the world around them was black, she was almost sure she could see his panicked expression from where she was stood. "They can't be here – in Little Whinging?"

"Long story," she whispered back. "I don't even have any answers. Also never produced a Patronus Charm before, so there's that."

"Then why are you even here?" asked Harry, a tad scathing, but it was a stressful situation, so she didn't blame him.

Instead she nudged him, muttering, "Lumos," just so he could see the grin on her face. "You thought I was gonna let you go through this alone?" she asked lightly, as if they weren't in a sea of inky black with the worst creatures on the face of the earth closing in, making the air so cold it burned to breathe. "As if."

"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley was crying from behind them. "W-where are you? What are you d-do–?"

"Will you shut up?" Harry hissed again.

But Dudley wasn't calm enough to listen, and Winona knew he was only going to get more and more hysterical once the dementors arrived. Best she could do was to flick her wand at the boy quivering on the pavement behind them. A small piece of tape materialised over his mouth, and though he tried to shout through it, he couldn't. When he tried to rip it off with his hands, it wouldn't budge.

"You can undo that, right?" Harry asked dryly.

"I could, but why ever would I?"

But before he could retort, the alleyway was filled with a series of sounds. Breathing – long, hoarse, rattling inhales of air. Winona cursed and flicked off her wandlight, as if it might help hide them from the dementors. But she knew it was pointless. They already knew they were there.

There was a loud noise – different to the ones the dementors were making as they approached – and Harry let out a groan of pain. Against her better judgement she turned the light back on, finding Harry sprawled on the concrete, nursing his aching head.

"You little prick!" Winona snarled at Dudley, who was waddling away at a pathetic pace, trying to escape the dementors – and in his confusion, running straight at them.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK!" Harry shouted at him. Winona picked up his wand and handed it to him, watching as Harry scrambled to his feet. "YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

But it was too late – it had caught him. Dudley's cries fell silent, and despite the fact Winona knew Harry couldn't stand his cousin on the best of days, she still sensed his panic as he came close to losing Dudley.

"DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!" Harry bellowed at him while Winona spun on her heel and threw a Stinging Hex at the dementor behind Harry. It barely flinched under the attack, and she began to wonder if she should have asked Lupin for Patronus lessons before she'd attempted this fool's errand.

"Harry, now!" she screamed at her cousin.

"Expecto patronum!" he tried to shout, but it had virtually no effect, little more than a wisp of silvery vapour erupting from the tip of his wand.

Winona sent a Stunning Spell at the dementor, throwing such force into it that it seemed to almost pause, as if surprised by the strength of the attack.

"Again, Harry!" she encouraged him, throwing another Stinging Hex for good measure.

A pair of decrepit hands slid from the sleeves of the derelict cloak, and Harry made a sound like a whimper. "Expecto patronum!" he tried again, but again, it did little to work.

"Harry, you can do this!" Winona shouted as the dementor's hands came towards him, as if preparing to wring the life from his neck. "Come on, Harry! Think of something happy!"

And then, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

An enormous silver stag leapt from Harry's wand; and Winona was stunned by the sight of it. She wasn't even sure she'd ever seen a Patronus before, and certainly not one as large as Harry's. The stag was beautiful, glittering with silvery light as it charged the closest dementor. The foul thing flew away, defeated just like that.

"THIS WAY!" Harry bellowed, and it took Winona a moment to realise he was talking to the stag. "GET IT!"

The stag did as it was told, chasing after the final Patronus with a vengeance. It disappeared into the night and the lights in the street reappeared, the stars and moon seeming to materialise above their heads. Once the dementor was gone, Winona and Harry were left in a ringing silence, and slowly they turned to look at one another.

Winona swept forwards first, gathering her cousin up in a hug. Harry clutched her tightly, and she felt the way he was trembling in her arms. "Here," she said, pulling away and fishing Remus' chocolate from her pocket. "This'll help."

Harry stared down at the chocolate uncomprehendingly for a long few moments. "You knew," he finally said, the two words a heated accusation that cut right to Winona's heart.

And since she could never be anything but honest with him, she nodded her head. "I knew."

Dudley was crying from where he was folded like an inflated lawn chair on the pavement. The pair looked down at him in the same moment.

"Don't suppose you wanna take point on this one?" she asked hopefully. Harry shot her a look thick with disdain, and Winona sighed acceptingly. She snapped off a corner of the chocolate, then handed the bar to Harry, plopping the food in her mouth. "How're you doing, Dudley?" she asked as cheerfully as she was able, her voice still wobbling some.

Dudley just kept sobbing, and Winona reluctantly crouched down beside him.

"Look, at least you're alive," she told him in her best attempt at a comforting voice. She was going to try patting him on the back, but saw his shirt was soaked through with sweat and changed her mind. "Could be worse; they could've sucked out your soul."

That only made Dudley cry harder, and in retrospect, maybe it hadn't been the best thing to say.

Winona realised he still had the tape on his mouth and quickly cast the counter-spell. It dissolved into nothing, leaving his mouth free, and the muffled sobs became louder at once.

"Winnie – I don't understand," Harry was panting from behind her. "What's happening? Why're you here?"

Despite the fact that every bone in her body was screaming to spill everything at once, Winona knew that, for her own sake, she needed to choose her words carefully. "Had a vision; here I am," she said, choosing to keep things lighthearted despite the small elephant blubbering on the footpath between them.

"I thought you couldn't leave…wherever you were?" he asked, frustrated.

"I couldn't," she agreed. "But I managed to strike up a deal."

"What deal? With who?"

There were footsteps on the ground behind them, and Harry whipped around with a gasp, a defensive curse sitting ready on his lips. "Harry!" Winona shouted, knowing who it was.

Arabella Figg appeared in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Harry rushed to hide his wand. "Don't put it away, idiot boy!" she rasped, glancing furtively to each end of the alley. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

"Took you long enough, Mrs Figg," said Winona, a tad snide, but she thought it was warranted.

"This body isn't quite as young as yours, Winona," Mrs Figg sniped back as she shuffled closer. "It's a miracle I'm here at all."

Winona rolled her eyes, ignoring the way Harry was glancing between them like they were speaking in a language only he couldn't understand. "What?" he finally asked, clueless about how he was supposed to react. But there wasn't any time to sit down and answer the whole slew of questions Winona knew to be boiling beneath his tongue.

"Where's Mundungus?" she asked Mrs Figg.

"He left!" the batty old lady squawked.

"Left?" Winona echoed, ire beginning to burn in her blood. "But it was his shift!"

"Insisted on going to meet someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went – not to mention what you'd do to him if you found out! Now look! Dementors!"

Winona turned to scan the street. She knew none would be coming back tonight, but that didn't do anything to help ease the horrible sense that they were being watched. "We need to get them inside," she told Mrs Figg sternly.

"No – wait – you two know each other?" Harry demanded, looking like someone had stuck a fork in his ear and scrambled his brains. "You're a witch?"

Mrs Figg made a scoffing noise. "I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off dementors? He left you completely without cover when I'd warned him–"

"This Mundungus has been following me?" Harry asked, doing his best to keep up. "Hang on – it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!"

"Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr. Tibbles under a car just in case, and Mr Tibbles came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone – and now – oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? And you!"

She whirled around on Winona, who broke her stare with a nearby alcove and blinked at Mrs Figg in surprise.

"Dumbledore's going to be awfully cross with you – sneaking out – twice in one week! It's madness! Don't you know the price you have on your head? You stubborn, foolish girl."

"It's fine," Winona assured her. "Dumbledore knows I'm here."

Harry turned to stare at her. "He does?"

"Let's get Dudley home before he passes out and I have to levitate him back to his house," she murmured, an excuse to keep him from being able to ask any more questions she couldn't answer. This was going to be a lot harder than she'd thought it would be.

"You know Dumbledore?" asked Harry, staring at Mrs Figg, just desperate for some answers, any answers.

Mrs Figg snorted. "Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore? We need to go, Winona," she added, glancing down the street furtively. "Who knows if they're bold enough to come back?"

She tried hefting up Dudley, but the useless lump was too out of it to move. Harry stooped down and Winona went with him, the pair of the painstakingly hauling the blubbery git to his feet. Once he was upright it became clear he wouldn't stay that way alone, so Winona sighed reluctantly and wrapped an arm around his bulbous waist, helping Harry drag him in the direction of Privet Drive.

"Keep your wands out," Mrs Figg told them as they entered Wisteria Walk. "Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery… This was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of – what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr Prentice… Don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?" she snapped at Harry, who quickly lifted his wand again, even despite the way his hand shook.

"Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib, Mrs Figg?" Harry asked her intently, panting with the effort to keep walking while supporting the full weight of Dudley between them. "All those times I came round your house – why didn't you say anything?"

A shadow crossed Mrs Figg's face, and Winona looked away guiltily. "Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, Harry, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know … but, oh my word," she whispered, wringing her hands again, "when Dumbledore hears about this – how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight – where is he? Winona, you're going to have to let Dumbledore know what's happened."

"I can't leave Harry's side," Winona confessed. "It's part of my deal for freedom. I'm stuck with him until the collection later tonight."

"Collection?" echoed Harry.

"You'll see," Winona promised him, stomach twisting at the hurt on his face as he looked away.

"I've got an owl, you can borrow her," he told Mrs Figg quickly.

Mrs Figg tutted loudly, glancing at a house on the right like she didn't trust more dementors not to come flying out of the open window on the second floor. "Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible. The Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words-"

"But I was getting rid of dementors, I had to use magic – they're going to be more worried about what dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?"

Mrs Figg glanced to Winona in the same moment Winona glanced to her, and she knew they were both thinking of everything the Prophet had been saying lately, telling them all exactly where Fudge's priorities lay.

"Oh, my dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid – MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Mundungus had appeared with a crack on the street before them. He teetered where he stood, and he smelt so strongly of alcohol that Winona's patience shattered into a million tiny little pieces. With a flick of her wand and a muttered spell, Mundungus was bent over, holding his hands to his face in an attempt to soothe the burn of the boils that had appeared.

"Wha' the 'ell?!" he shouted.

"Winona," tutted Mrs Figg, but Winona thought she didn't look particularly scolding at all.

"Winona?!" echoed Mundungus, shooting upright to pin Winona with a furious sneer. "Wha' in Merlin's name d'you think you're doin'? This you finally gettin' me back for accidentally taking your dad's silverware? I told you, I got it mixed up with me own!"

He paused.

"Wait, what're you doing out of Headquarters?" he frowned deeply, unsure what to make of the sight before him. "Figgy? What 'appened to staying undercover?"

"I'll give you undercover!" cried Mrs Figg with a fiery fury that made Winona smirk. "Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!"

"Dementors?" Mundungus echoed dumbly, as if briefly forgetting what the word meant. "Dementors, here?"

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings!" Mrs Figg all but shrieked into his face, which was still covered in painful-looking boils that Winona had no intentions of reversing. "Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!"

"Blimey," said Mundungus as if the rest of the English language suddenly escaped him. "Blimey…"

Mrs Figg began beating Mundungus with a handbag full of cat food, and Winona took a sick pleasure in watching him yelp in pain under the attack.

"Ouch – gerroff – gerroff, you mad old bat!" shouted Mundungus. "Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!"

"Yes–they– have!" yelled Mrs Figg, beating the blighter within an inch of his life. "And–it–had–better–be–you–and–you–can–tell– him–why–you–weren't–there–to–help!"

"Keep your 'airnet on!" muttered Mundungus, cowering away from her like she were You-Know-Who himself. "I'm going, I'm going!"

He paused, glancing at Winona, a sly look on his face.

"Guess this means you've been caught sneaking out twice in one week, eh, doll-face?" he asked, probably thinking her disobedience overshadowed his own.

"Think again, dipshit," she spat venomously. "At least I was here."

He made a rude gesture back and Mrs Figg swung her bag full of heavy cans at his boil-covered face. But Mundungus Disapparated before it could land, and little Mrs Figg would have toppled to the ground if Winona hadn't caught her in time.

"I hope Dumbledore murders him!" Mrs Figg hissed as she straightened up. "Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?"

Winona and Harry heaved up Dudley once more and kept on walking.

"I'll take you to the door. Just in case there are more of them around…" muttered Mrs Figg as they turned onto Harry's street. "Oh my word, what a catastrophe…and you had to fight them off yourself…and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs… Well, it's no good crying over spilt potion, I suppose…but the cat's among the pixies now…"

"It all works out," Winona assured her.

"Well, yes…I suppose that's why you're here, dear," said Mrs Figg mildly. Winona tried to smile, but it felt wooden and insincere.

"So," panted Harry as they dragged a limp, groaning Dudley down the long road of Privet Drive, "Dumbledore's been having me followed?"

He glanced to the side and Winona caught his stare. He looked hurt, and she knew he must have been. She knew, were their roles reversed, she'd be more than a little bit pissed to be kept so out of the loop.

"Of course he has," tutted Mrs Figg impatiently, before Winona could answer him herself. "Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent. Right … get inside and stay there," she ordered Harry as they came to a stop in front of number four. "Winona, you stick to him like glue," she added, vaguely threatening in her delivery. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

"What are you going to do?" demanded Harry, struggling to stay upright under Dudley's considerable weight. Winona took a bit more of it, her arms beginning to ache from the strain.

"I'm going straight home," said Mrs Figg shortly. "I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house – both of you. Goodnight."

With that she turned on her heel and marched away as quickly as her little legs could carry her, ridiculous slippers flopping loudly against the pavement.

Harry turned immediately to his cousin. "What's going on? Why haven't I heard anything? Is Dumbledore-?"

"Not now," Winona whispered, casting the street a glance. It looked empty, and for all she knew, it was. But she couldn't help feeling the weight of eyes pressing to them, exposed as they were. "Figg's right. We need to get inside."

"But-"

"Harry," said Winona, more stern than he'd ever heard her. With a reluctant nod, he began to lead the way up the garden path to the door.

"You'd better put that away," said Harry, nodding to her wand as he stuffed his own back into the waistband of his jeans. "Aunt Petunia will have a fit if she sees it."

Winona scoffed. "As if this situation could possibly get any worse from here."

But even as she said it, she slipped her wand back into her the top knot she'd hastily made in her hair earlier that afternoon. With any luck, the Muggles would mistake it for a regular chopstick and they could go about their day.

Once Winona's wand was strategically hidden, Harry rang the doorbell. Petunia took her sweet time answering the door, and by the time she pulled it open, Dudley was looking significantly more green than he had before.

"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite – quite… Diddy, what's the matter?" Petunia asked shrilly, going frightfully pale as Dudley swayed where he stood, then opened his mouth and threw up all of over the doormat. "DIDDY!" Petunia screeched, and Winona glanced over her shoulder, paranoid. The very last thing they needed was to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves. "Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!"

Vernon waddled into the room, face nearly purple, moustache quivering, and together with his wife he helped his son over the threshold. They were so worried about Dudley that neither of them seemed to notice either of the cousins stood in the doorway behind him. Winona watched as Harry slipped inside just as Vernon slammed the door shut, stranding her outside.

Winona certainly wasn't going to knock to be let in – as if they'd invite her inside anyway – so Winona gripped her wand in her hand and twisted on the spot. She reappeared on the other side of the door, stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Petunia let out a shrill screech that sounded like the noise an exotic bird might make while laying an egg. Vernon flinched back into the wall with enough force to leave a small crater in the tasteless wallpaper.

"What – I – who do…?" Vernon stuttered, stunned by her nerve, apparating inside his own house. "Just who in the hell do you think you are?" he finally thundered.

"The girl who just helped save your son's life," she replied without hesitation. She hadn't actually done a whole lot towards saving Dudley – but at least she'd been there.

Vernon went an even more concerning shade of purple – he now looked rather like a swollen eggplant – and jabbed a finger in her direction, beady eyes flickering between the pair of them. Before he could let whatever insults or threats he was holding back fly, Dudley gave a little whimper and his fury wavered.

He followed his wife down the hall, taking Dudley into the kitchen. Around his humungous middle, Winona could see Petunia ushering her trembling son into a chair. Vernon looked over his shoulder at the pair of them, hatred in his eyes. "Come here," he ordered them sharply.

Winona turned to look at Harry in the same moment he turned to look at her. Winona sighed deeply. "Shall we?" she asked, resigned.

"After you," said Harry, and it was nearly enough to make her smile. Nearly.

"What in the hell have you freaks done to my son?" he snarled once they were all in the kitchen. After the night they'd had, the whole room seemed unnatural – too bright, too clean – but Vernon gave them no time to acclimate.

"We didn't do anything," Harry insisted. Vernon's ugly snarl told Winona that he didn't believe him for a moment.

"What did they do to you, Diddy?" Petunia asked, voice trembling with fear as she sponged sick from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "Was it – was it you-know-what, darling? Did they use –their things?"

Slowly, eyes glassy and distant, the little shit Dudley just nodded.

"But I didn't!" cried Harry as Petunia let out a wail and Vernon raised his fists.

"We didn't touch your son!" Winona insisted. "We were trying to save him!"

"Likely story," snarled Vernon.

Having had just about enough, Winona whipped out her wand. Vernon was wise to take a large step backwards, bumping into a chair, its legs scraping against the tiles with a screech. "If we wanted to hurt Dudley, he'd be hurt," she told Vernon, her voice like serrated steel. "Just like if we wanted to hurt you, we could."

"Are you threatening me?!" Vernon bellowed, fists clenched tight, fury making his eyes water.

Winona opened her mouth to spout a retort that was neither kind nor demure, but Harry threw out an arm before she could speak. "Uncle Vernon, we didn't hurt him, I swear-" he argued, tapping sternly at Winona's wand, a silent order to put it away.

But before he could explain what had happened with the Dementors, there came the familiar, sharp screech of an owl, and they all turned in time to see a tawny owl swoop through the open kitchen window. It didn't land anywhere, soaring across the room to drop a letter at Harry's feet, then leaving as suddenly as it had arrived.

"OWLS!" thundered Vernon, shuffling angrily across the room to slam the window shut with enough force to shudder the frame. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!"

Harry wasn't listening, having already picked up the letter, tearing it open. The envelope fluttered to the floor, but Winona plucked it from the air, glancing at the Ministry's broken wax seal on the back.

"AND YOU! IF YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST SHOW UP HERE AND WREAK HAVOC IN OUR HOUSE, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN," Vernon was roaring at Winona, purple in his face deepening. Winona wondered if he was going to try and hit her – she kind of hoped he would, just to give her a reason to fight back.

She felt Harry go completely still beside her and successfully turned out Vernon's senseless ire. She turned to her cousin, leaning over his shoulder to read what the letter said.

Perfunctory and detached, the letter told him in no uncertain terms that this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery would result in his expulsion from Hogwarts, and that Ministry representatives would be arriving shortly to destroy his wand. It also mentioned that, this being his second infraction, his presence was required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 in the morning on the twelfth of August.

"It's okay, Harry," Winona told him, looking into her cousin's shellshocked face. "We're going to sort it."

But Harry didn't appear to be listening. He stared down at the piece of paper as if he'd suddenly lost the ability to read, like it made zero sense to his addled brain. Winona put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, trying to force him to feel her support. He couldn't think he was alone. He couldn't think there was no hope.

Vernon was still screaming, but the words had all blurred together and Winona had long since stopped listening. Dudley had started retching again, and Winona wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Then, abruptly, Harry gripped his wand tight and turned to leave. "Where d'you think you're going?" Vernon bellowed furiously. When Harry didn't reply, he pounded across the kitchen to block the doorway into the hall. "I haven't finished with you, boy!"

"Get out of the way," said Harry quietly. Winona knew better than most that the quietest rage was the most deadly. She worried now for her cousin – she'd seen this happening in her vision, but now that she was here, seeing the despair in Harry's eyes, she suddenly knew the true depth of her cousin's pain.

Vernon leaned down to snarl in his nephew's face. "NO! You're going to stay here and explain how my son–"

Harry blinked at him, utterly calm. "If you don't get out of the way, I'm going to jinx you," he warned Vernon.

"Harry," said Winona reproachfully, gripping her cousin by the elbow. He ignored her, glowering at Vernon with hatred.

"You can't pull that one on me!" snarled Vernon. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!"

"The madhouse has chucked me out," argued Harry. "So I can do whatever I like. You've got three seconds. One–two–"

A sudden CRACK filled the kitchen. Petunia screeched again and Vernon ducked as if expecting an attack. But it wasn't an attack. It was just a barn owl, blinking up at them through the closed kitchen window.

Harry didn't hesitate to leap for the owl, hastily untying the note from its leg before unravelling it and staring down at its contents.

Winona peeked over his shoulder once more to see what it said – because she was terminally nosy. It was written in an unfamiliar scrawl, the ink smeared and blotchy, done by a hurried hand.

Harry–

Dumbledore's at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out now. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND. DO NOT LEAVE WINONA'S SIDE.

Arthur Weasley

Harry stared down at it, still ignoring his uncle's tirade from across the room. Winona did the same. "I know you're panicking," said Winona quietly, the words for Harry alone. He looked up from the letter, eyes wide like the owl it had arrived with. "But did you really think I wouldn't have this whole thing under control?"

Harry stared at her a minute, Vernon's roars now more of a white noise; existing in the background, easy to ignore. "I'm not going to get expelled?" he asked, and she watched as a spark of hope reignited in his emerald eyes.

"Do you trust me?" she asked instead. Harry didn't hesitate to nod his head, and she found herself relieved. Somehow she hadn't been sure of his answer until that moment. "Then trust me, and do as we say."

Swallowing, Harry folded the letter back up and stuffed it absentmindedly into his pocket. "Right," he said, looking up at his aunt and uncle, carefully detached, "I've changed my mind, I'm staying."

He then sat down calmly at the kitchen table, hands folded on the tabletop as if waiting for the inquisition to begin. Taking his lead, Winona sat down on his left.

Vernon seemed to sense he was finally going to get some answers, and he stopped shouting nonsense long enough to put together a relevant question. "What's she doing here?" he spat, moustache twitching irritably as his beady eyes narrowed at Winona.

"She's my family; she came to visit," said Harry tonelessly.

"Right as you attacked my son?! Awfully convenient," snarled Vernon.

"Actually, I can see the future," Winona informed him, not in the mood to pull punches. If Vernon wanted answers, he was sure as shit going to get them. "I saw this happening and came to be of some help."

Vernon looked rather blindsided by the whole 'Seer' thing, but he moved on easily enough. "Well it didn't do any good, did it?!" he snarled, gesturing to Dudley who was being cradled close by Petunia. She kept smoothing a hand down his oily hair, and Winona grimaced again in disgust. "Look at him! He's been driven barmy!"

"Actually, it wasn't your son I came to help," Winona argued without missing a beat, glancing pointedly at Harry. The purple in Vernon's face, which had slowly begun to recede, came back with a vengeance.

"So, you admit it!" he cried. "You're his accomplice!"

Winona didn't deign to respond to such a theory, and she turned to look at Harry instead. He looked rather shaken, still, but much less pale than he had reading that first letter.

"And who are all these ruddy owls from, exactly?" Vernon growled, sensing he wasn't going to be getting any more on the subject of Winona.

"The first one was from the Ministry of Magic, expelling me," said Harry, much more calm than Winona had expected. Then again, hadn't he already proved time and time again how good he was under pressure? "The second one was from my friend Ron's dad, who works at the Ministry of Magic."

"Ministry of Magic?" echoed Vernon with a sneer. "People like you in government? Oh, this explains everything, everything – no wonder the country's going to the dogs…" When neither of them reacted, he changed topics. "And why have you been expelled?"

Harry's mouth pulled down at the corner. "Because I did magic."

"AHA!" Vernon roared, slamming his fist down on top of the fridge. "So you admit it! What did you do to Dudley?"

Harry sat up straighter in his seat. "Nothing," he insisted. "That wasn't me – did you hear that?" he asked suddenly, craning his head to look out the window. Winona gripped her wand. She didn't imagine there was anybody out there, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Harry tried to stand up, but Winona tugged him back down into his chair. "You stay and answer your delightful family's questions," she told him quickly. "I'll check it out."

"NO! I will not have that in my house!" Vernon snarled at the sight of her wand.

Winona's lip curled back in disgust. "Shut up, Vernon, or I'll turn you into a toad," she threatened him, leaving him gaping at her, resembling an eggplant once again. She tapped Harry companionably on the shoulder, then made her way to the sliding door that led out into a modest, suburban backyard.

Winona could hear the argument still going on inside from her place out on the grass, and she kept half her attention on it, the other half scanning the shadows. She knew the plan, but had to remind herself of why she was here at all. Harry didn't need to go through this alone; he deserved someone to share the burden with him.

She supposed he was on edge, hearing things that weren't there, but she muttered, "Lumos," and shined the light into the shadows anyway. It was clear – the backyard was empty and barren. There wasn't so much as a garden gnome in sight.

She was here to stand witness – so when the Ministry tried to persecute her her cousin, she could stop them from doing so without cause. Harry would be protected from the Ministry, even if she was the only thing standing in their way.

The clean air of the night helped ease her swirling mind, and it was with a clearer head that Winona stepped back into the house. "Horrible," Dudley was croaking, voice smaller than Winona had ever heard it. "Cold. Really cold."

"That's dementors for you," she drawled, shutting the sliding door again and retaking her seat beside harry.

Vernon shushed her like she'd cursed him, and she just barely kept from pulling a rude face in retaliation. "What happened then, Dudders?" he asked his son urgently.

"Felt … felt … felt … as if … as if…" Dudley stammered uselessly.

"As if you'd never be happy again," Harry supplied dully.

"Yes," Dudley agreed, still trembling where he stood, the fat of his body shaking like jello.

"So!" sneered Vernon, straightening up to his full height. "You and your wicked little cousin decided to put some crackpot spell on my on so he'd hear voices and believe he was – was doomed to misery, or something, did you? Your idea of a joke?!"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Harry, beginning to lose his cool. "It wasn't me! It was a couple of dementors!"

"A couple of – what's this codswallop?"

"De–men–tors," said Harry slowly and clearly. "Two of them."

"If Harry hadn't have been there, your son would be little more than a husk right about now," Winona informed him tersely.

The look Vernon sent her could have boiled ice. "And what the ruddy hell are dementors?"

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Petunia so suddenly and unexpectedly that silence was its only response. They all stared at Petunia, who looked so horrified by her own words that Winona thought she might burst into tears right there.

Harry frowned, astonished. "How d'you know that?"

Petunia swallowed loudly, like the next words were hard to stomach. "I heard that awful boy – telling her about them – years ago," she said jerkily, seeming embarrassed by her own knowledge.

"If you mean my mum and dad, why don't you use their names?" Harry demanded hotly.

Petunia acted like he wasn't even there, staring at Vernon apologetically, like she might have hurt his feelings by knowing what Azkaban was. Winona wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she regained the ability to be a decent human being. Who cared what Vernon thought? She should have been more worried about the bloody dementors in Little Whinging!

Vernon, to his very minor credit, seemed to finally take the situation seriously. "So–so–they–er–they–er–they actually exist, do they–er– Dementy-whatsits?" he asked stiltedly, cringing like the words tasted bad on his tongue.

Petunia nodded slowly, lips trembling with emotion.

Another owl swooped into the room, and Harry didn't hesitate to rip open the envelope it had held in its beak. The owl hooted once, oblivious to the way Vernon was sneering at it like it were a rat he'd found in his cereal box, and swooped back out the way it had come.

"What's this one?" Winona asked Harry eagerly.

"What, you don't know?" Harry muttered as he scanned it, sounding just a little bitter.

Winona nearly flinched, but she supposed it was deserved. She wished she knew a spell that would make all of this better for him, but for all the magic at her fingertips, it didn't work like that. All it would take was time.

"They're not gonna destroy my wand," her cousin continued, parchment crinkling in his tight grip. "They're going to wait until the hearing and decide then. And Dumbledore convinced them to suspend me, rather than expel me. That'll be decided at the hearing, too."

"A hearing?" asked Vernon, suddenly very interested. "Do your lot have the death penalty?"

In the span of a heartbeat, Winona had the tip of her wand aimed in Vernon's face. "Watch your tongue or I'll curse it off," she warned him.

The purple faded from the old walrus' face, instead he turned a pasty white. He opened his mouth, trying to come up with a response, but in the end decided it was safer not to reply – the first smart decision he'd made all night.

"Well, if that's all-" said Harry, getting to his feet.

"NO, IT RUDDY WELL IS NOT ALL!" seethed Vernon. "SIT BACK DOWN!"

Reluctantly, Harry obeyed. "What now?"

"DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon. "I want to know exactly what happened to my son!"

Harry began to explain what had happened – with little progress, because the Dursleys all kept interrupting with commentary of their own – but Winona stopped listening. She stared out the open kitchen window. It was hard to see the stars out here, and she suddenly couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts for no reason other than to spend her sleepless nights staring up at the Milky Way and tracing constellations with her eyes.

"But what's she doing here?!" Vernon snarled, pointing a sausage-like finger in Winona's face.

"I told you," she said, exasperated. "I see the future. I came to help."

Vernon had turned purple again. Winona wondered if the drastic colour changes to his face were doing him any permanent damage – then decided she didn't care. "If you see the future, why didn't you stop this from happening?" thundered Vernon, as if suddenly all the blame were on her shoulders. "You've done nothing! You're useless!"

"What's happening here is bigger than your tiny little pea brain will ever understand, Uncle Vernon," she said scathingly, calling him that just to rile him up.

Vernon's beady eyes narrowed with hate. "I'm. Not. Your. Uncle!"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Some things can't be avoided, or changed. They have to happen as they will. And as for what I'm doing – just my being here is turning the tide. So don't you dare say I'm useless, you belligerent Muggle."

Vernon looked like he might very well explode in pure fury, but before he had the chance, a fourth owl came shooting out of the kitchen fireplace, bringing with it a cloud of dust and the smell of ash.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" roared Vernon, vein in his temple throbbing like it threatened to burst. "I WILL NOT HAVE OWLS HERE, I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS, I TELL YOU!"

Winona watched as Harry tore free the note it carried, reading it with hungry eyes. He frowned, then handed it to Winona without a word, knowing instinctively that she'd want to read it – which meant it could have only come from one person.

Her dad's handwriting was as neat as always, even if it did look smudged from how rushed he'd been writing it.

We know what's happened. Don't leave the house again, whatever you do. Stay with Winona; she's our eyes. I'll see you soon.

"–a peck, I mean, pack of owls shooting in and out of my house. I won't have it, boy, I won't–" Vernon was still ranting. Winona had tuned him out, but as she handed the letter back to a scowling Harry, his voice reappeared in her ears.

"I can't stop the owls coming," Harry snapped at his uncle, Sirius' letter crumpling in his fist.

"I want the truth about what happened tonight!" snarled Uncle Vernon, as if everything they'd said up to now had been some elaborate lie. "If it was demenders who hurt Dudley, how come you've been expelled? And why would this one be here if not for a pre-planned attack? You did you-know-what, you've admitted it!"

"I did the Patronus Charm to get rid of the dementors," said Harry with great deliberation. Winona could hear how he was struggling to stay calm, and she reached out, pressing a hand to his shoulder. Hurt ricocheted through her when he shrugged her off. "It's the only thing that works against them."

"But what were Dementoids doing in Little Whinging?" Vernon demanded, glaring at them like it were their fault.

"We had nothing to do with that," Winona insisted, an icy glower of her own set like stone on her face.

"But someone must have," he thundered. "It's got something to do with you – I know it. Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that alleyway? You've got to be the only–the only–" Evidently, he couldn't bring himself to say the word 'wizards'. "The only you-know-whats for miles."

Harry heaved a great sigh. Winona could tell he was getting tired, but as much as she wanted to step in and order the Dursleys to leave Harry alone, she sensed Harry wasn't in the mood to have any decisions made for him, especially not by her. "I don't know why they were here," he insisted tiredly.

"These demembers guard some weirdo prison?" Vernon demanded, struggling to keep up.

"Yes."

"Oho! They were coming to arrest you!" roared Vernon suddenly, with the triumphant air of a man reaching an unassailable conclusion. "That's it, isn't it, boy? You're on the run from the law! You and your little relative," he spat the word like it were dirty. Winona rolled her eyes.

"Of course we're not," said Harry, but Winona could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to figure out what had happened. He turned suddenly to Winona, a clarity in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "He must have sent them," he said, and Winona noticed suddenly how pale he looked.

She nodded slowly. "It's one theory," she confessed, the most she could possibly say.

Harry looked confused, opening his mouth to ask more, but Vernon interrupted without so much as a hint of regard for politeness. "What's that?" he demanded hotly. "Who must have sent them?"

Harry turned back to his uncle, eyes flat. "Lord Voldemort."

The Dursleys didn't react, but Winona did. She didn't quite flinch – she wasn't afraid of the name, or what it represented; not like the rest of the Wizarding world was – but there was something heavy in the name. Like the evil of the Dark Lord was woven into the very syllables that made up the word. It made her stomach churn and her skin prickle, half expecting You-Know-Who to materialise in the Dursleys' kitchen and kill them all where they stood.

"Lord–hang on," muttered Vernon, his blubbery face screwed up. "I've heard that name … that was the one who…"

"Murdered my parents, yes," Harry confirmed dully.

"But he's gone," said Vernon impatiently, as if he were talking about the weather and not the man who brutally murdered all of Winona and Harry's family – apart from Sirius. But in a way, Voldemort had taken him from them, too. "That giant bloke said so. He's gone."

Harry paused, the weight of his next words obvious. "He's back," he said, quiet and seemingly without fear. But Winona knew otherwise. She knew Harry like she knew her own heart. He was scared; just not in the way that made your hands shake and your voice tremble. He was scared right down to his very soul.

It was quiet for a long few moments, but Winona knew Vernon couldn't comprehend the horror those two words entailed. However, apparently, Petunia could. "Back?" she whispered, fear making her eyes wet.

Harry paused, glancing at Winona, who stared back at him, eyes warm with understanding. "Yes," he said, talking directly to Petunia now. "He came back a month ago. I saw him."

Petunia's skeletal hands clutched at Dudley's hunched shoulders, gripping him hard, like if she held on tightly enough, nothing would be able to take him from her.

"Hang on," said Vernon, looking dazed by the abrupt change in atmosphere. "Hang on. This Lord Voldything's back, you say."

"Yes."

"The one who murdered your parents."

"And Winona's," Harry nodded sombrely.

Vernon blinked. "And now he's sending dismembers after you?"

"Looks like it."

"I see."

There was a moment of quiet, Vernon seeming to consider all the facts very carefully, until finally he came to a decision.

"Well, that settles it," he said sharply, "you can get out of this house, boy!"

Neither Winona nor Harry knew how to react. "Sorry?" Winona asked, feeling rather like she'd just been slapped.

"You heard me–both of you–OUT!" Vernon bellowed, and even Petunia and Dudley flinched. "OUT! OUT! I should've done this years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley's tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling and that flying Ford Anglia–OUT! OUT! You've had it! You're history! You're not staying here if some loony's after you, you're not endangering my wife and son, you're not bringing trouble down on us, if you're going the same way as your useless parents, I've had it! OUT!"

Harry stood rooted to the spot, pile of crinkled letters clutched in a tight fist. Any sense of calm Winona had felt immediately vanished, replaced by a seething rage. "You can't kick him out!" she cried. "It isn't safe out there!"

"Well, it's safer for us if he's gone!" sneered Vernon, strangely triumphant, as if he'd just thought up the smartest course of action in his life. "You've got a-a thing," he snapped, gesturing to the wand Winona still clutched in her hand. "You can protect him now. It isn't our job anymore!"

Winona stared at him without a word, wondering distantly how one person could be so entirely cruel. She'd had a lot of shitty foster parents in her time – some who hurt her physically, and others who shouted abuse at her like Vernon did to Harry – but never had she been kicked out of the house after getting brutally attacked on the street. Where was Vernon's compassion?

She decided right then and there that, if she hadn't loathed him beforehand, she sure as hell did now.

"You heard me!" Vernon barked. He roared and raged, thundering on like a powerless god, snarling insults and should-have-beens in her cousin's face. But before he could go the extra step and literally throw Harry out onto the street, a fifth owl zoomed down the chimney so fast it actually hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a loud screech. It soared straight over both of their heads, flying directly at Petunia, who let out a scream and ducked, her arms over her face. The owl dropped the red envelope on her head, turned, and flew straight back up the chimney.

"You can open it if you like," said Harry, "but we'll hear what it says anyway. That's a Howler."

And he was right – the envelope was a tell-tale crimson, and as much as Winona hoped Petunia would get hit by a bus, she also sort of pitied her. Howlers were never a good time.

"Let go of it, Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "Don't touch it, it could be dangerous!"

"It's addressed to me," Petunia murmured in a trembling voice. "It's addressed to me, Vernon, look! Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Four, Privet Drive–"

"Open it!" Harry urged her when the envelope began to smoke. "Get it over with! It'll happen anyway."

"Honestly, just open it," Winona growled. Muggles; you either loved them or you couldn't stand them. Right now, Winona was somewhere in between.

Petunia didn't listen. She looked wildly around the kitchen as though looking for an escape route, but too late – the envelope burst into flames. Petunia screamed and dropped it. An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table.

"REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA."

Petunia looked as though she might faint, and – petty though it was – Winona kind of hoped she would. She sank into the chair beside her still-trembling son, her face in her hands. The remains of the envelope smouldered into ash in the silence.

"What is this?" Vernon asked hoarsely. "What–I don't–Petunia?"

For a long minute, Petunia said nothing, and neither did anyone else, as if afraid that breaking the sudden silence would shatter the world like glass. Winona stared at the woman, whose shoulders trembled, face still buried in her hands. She wondered who the voice had been, and what the words had meant. Harry – likely expecting her to know – stared at her expectantly.

"I'm not all-knowing," Winona whispered in response, frustrated by her own limitation. Harry said nothing.

"Petunia, dear?" Vernon finally murmured, more timid that Winona had ever thought he was capable. "P-Petunia?"

She raised her head slowly, lips trembling and her bird-like eyes wet with tears. "The boy–the boy will have to stay, Vernon," she finally said, so quiet Winona nearly missed it.

Now it was Vernon's turn to look like he'd been slapped. "W-what?"

"He stays," she said. She stood swiftly to her feet.

Vernon gaped at her in shock. "He … but Petunia…"

"If we throw him out, the neighbours will talk," she said briskly. "They'll ask awkward questions, they'll want to know where he's gone. We'll have to keep him."

"But Petunia, dear–?"

Petunia ignored him. She turned to Harry, a sharpness to her face that hadn't been there before. "You're to stay in your room," she said, no give in her voice. For a flash of a moment, even Winona felt like she would obey her. "You're not to leave the house. Your friend has to leave now."

Winona and Harry blinked. "Actually, I'm his cousin, and I'm staying," Winona said. Just because the woman had suddenly grown a spine, it didn't mean Winona had to listen to a word she said. She'd stood up to worse authority figures in the past; compared to them, Petunia was barely a blip on her radar.

"No, you're not," Petunia snapped.

"It isn't safe for her to leave-" argued Harry.

"She can look after herself. Goodbye," she said to Winona monotonously.

A plan forming in her head, Winona made a show of hunching her shoulders and looking disappointed. "Very well," she sighed dramatically. She stepped towards Harry – who was now a few inches taller than her – when had that happened? – and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as if in farewell.

"Meet you in five," she whispered covertly.

Harry looked confused when she pulled back, but she simply gave him a comforting smile before reluctantly turning to leave. She heard her cousin arguing with his aunt as she walked to the front door, but she knew Harry could handle himself. She left the house, shutting the door loudly behind her and crossing her arms over her chest tightly, even though the air was still balmy and warm.

She made her way right down to the end of the street, then took a turn into a small gap between a pair of houses where she knew she wouldn't be seen. She took three deep breaths, clutched her wand tightly in her hand, and twisted on the spot.

---

A/N: Spotlight review goes to: Carpenoctemm – So, I received a negative review on the last chapter, and to be honest, it made me second-guess this one. But then I received your review and it completely lifted my spirits. Thank you so much for letting me know you like the story. I absolutely encourage constructive criticism, but that doesn't mean it isn't a little hard to handle sometimes. I hope the majority of you enjoy this piece, and if you aren't enjoying it, then I encourage you to stop reading. Why continue if you get no joy out of it?

Oh, and yes, I am still planning to update on Thursdays – this week's just been a little hectic for me, so this update got delayed. Hope you enjoyed!