Winnie was ready.

She had spent the last couple of days plotting feverishly, her stomach in knots. This was HIGH SOCIETY, this was. She'd spent the beginning of her formative years locked up with a tutor nowhere near as handsome and debonaire as Davis. It was important, so sayeth Mum, to make a good impression. Everyone must know who you are when you enter a room. You must capture and captivate everyone RIGHT AWAY or no one...will ever...know who you are.

To that end, Winnie had dressed that morning in her Hogwarts uniform, impeccably clean and pressed to a crisp. (Especially her skirt, it fanned out like a tea cozy, stuck in its skirty shape. Oh well. Too much starch, perhaps.) She wore on her frizzy blonde curls an enormous floppy red bow; so enormous, in fact, that the loops of the bow grazed her shoulders. She was dressed to Stun, she knew it. She entered a car at the back of the train, her face split into a grin, ready to CAPTIVATE.