Wisdom and Victory {Fred Weasley}

Chapter 1

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The sun glowed warm on Victoria's face as she read the latest article in her mother's copy of transfiguration today. Well, not really her mother's - she was dead. Marlene McKinnon was the name on her birth certificate, but she'd died in the wizarding war. She wasn't supposed to know that though - her adoptive mother had no idea Victoria knew the truth. Well, she probably did know, but she certainly hadn't let on. And Victoria didn't know who her father was. But Minerva McGonagall was as good a mother as any - better than most in fact.

But Victoria was seventeen now, an actual adult, and going into her final year at Hogwarts. And stuff was happening out there - weird and dangerous stuff. Voldemort was back, she knew that much. Cedric Diggory in the year above had been killed by him at the end of last year. People were disappearing every day, and the Ministry were failing to acknowledge it. And her mother kept disappearing to these meetings with Dumbledore, and refusing to tell her anything. Victoria had asked, of course. The conversation hadn't gone well.

It had been a lovely morning, much like today's, so Minerva and Victoria McGonagall had breakfasted on the patio of the house's garden. Well, not really breakfasted. It was more a cup of tea while they reviewed the post, but nevertheless Victoria had made an effort. "Mother," she had said, "I'm seventeen now."

"And so you have been since February," her mother had pointed out, without looking up from her letter.

"Yes, well," Victoria had said, "I'm an adult, and I was hoping to come to your meeting with Dumbledore." Her mother had paused while bringing her tea to her lips and put it down carefully, frowning at her daughter.

"No," she had said shortly, "You're going back to school in September for starters, and it's NEWT year, you need to focus on that. And it's far too dangerous to know these things-"

"You're scared I'll get into some sort of bother," Victoria had said, interrupting. This had been her first mistake, as if there was one thing Minerva McGonagall couldn't stand it was being interrupted. Shortly followed by not saying please and thank you, cauldron cakes, and being accused of being scared. But Victoria thought she'd got off quite lightly on this occasion.

"Of course, I'm scared," her mother had said, frowning and stirring her tea and surprising Victoria. "But you pointing it out doesn't change my mind. Now go to your room, and work on your potions homework. I don't want to hear a word of complaint from Snape this year."

"Yes, mother," Victoria had said tonelessly, getting up and heading inside. Just before she had reached the door, she'd heard a sigh from behind her.

"You can do it in the library if you'd like." Victoria had turned around and saw her mother smiling faintly into her newspaper. This had cheered her up significantly: she adored the McGonagall House library: it was where she was sat now.

But the clock was ticking, and she had to be on the Hogwarts express by eleven. Victoria sighed and stood up, readjusting her Gryffindor tie and summoning her trunk and cloak. A brassy blond cat came prowling after it, chasing a wicker cat basket. "Come on, Charlie," said Victoria, scooping up the reluctant pet. "I'll let you back out on the train." He mewed impatiently as she fastened her cloak around her, picked up her things and apparated to King's Cross station.

*****

"I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends," said the toad-like witch in pink, who had interrupted Dumbledore's speech not five minutes previously. A group of fifth years were giggling further down the table, and Fred and George Weasley were pulling faces at some of the other seventh years. The first years were looking very confused. As a prefect, Victoria supposed she ought to tell her house to be quiet, but her mother was staring determinedly away from them, and she took that as an indication that what was happening was fine.

"I bet you two are going to have fun this year," she hissed across the table at the twins, who were talking about Quidditch with Angelina Johnson.

"Duh," said the one on the right and Victoria grinned at him, before looking back up the table. There he was. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Victoria had spoken to him once or twice, and he and his friends were always a friendly face in the corridor. He seemed a bit weird, but mostly Victoria just felt sorry for him. She knew how it felt to be an orphan. And while it wasn't too lonely for her (she always had her mother), there was something unique and strange about not knowing where you came from, or how different your life could have been. It wasn't a sad thought necessarily, just an odd one. After all, she loved her mother very much.

But now Victoria felt a bit sorry for him because nobody knew if he was telling the truth. He claimed that last year he'd seen You-Know-Who return. Victoria believed him, of course, because her mother had spent the summer fighting You-Know-Who, she huffed everytime she saw Harry's name in the Prophet, Dumbledore believed him, and he'd returned with a dead body. Cedric's body.

Feeling tears begin to prick at her eyes, Victoria zoned back into the situation in the hall. Harry and his friends were nattering hurriedly to one another, and it looked like it was quite important. She frowned at them thoughtfully. Harry was supposed to be close to Dumbledore, wasn't he? So he would know what was going on, right?

And suddenly, Victoria knew how she was going to fight You-Know-Who.