MATILDA - fred weasley

Chapter 26

Fred couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Where Matilda had been standing — where the girl he'd grown to care for had been begging him to leave — now stood a large, grey wolf. Its head was tilted towards the moon as a deep, guttural howl sounded through the night, harmonising with the howl of its companion by the tree.

Fred stumbled back, mouth agape as the wolf turned on him, its shackles drawing backwards as it pushed off its front paws, swiping for him. He managed to lift an arm just in time to protect his face, the wolf's claws slicing cleanly through his forearm.

He fell onto his back, holding his bleeding arm close to his chest and tried to hurry far away from the wolf — Matilda — as she snapped at him, stepping closer and closer. He stared into those piercing green eyes, searching for any sign of humanity.

"Matilda," he grunted. "Matilda, it's me. It's Fred."

He saw her shift her weight onto her hind legs, preparing to pounce, and he again covered his face with his arms, bracing himself for the attack.

But it didn't come.

There was a yelp from their left, and Fred spared a glance to see Matilda's attention was caught by the sight of a great black dog colliding with another grey wolf — this one was almost twice as big as Matilda. Lupin.

It was Lupin.

Matilda bolted into the fray, following the two canines as they thundered down the hill towards the Forbidden Forest.

Fred released a shuddering sigh, lying down on the grass.

"What the fuck, Til," he whispered to himself in disbelief.

A cool breeze settled over the grounds and Fred hissed as his wound stung in protest. He sat up, eyes wide as a sea of dementors soared through the sky in the direction of the Forest. In the direction of Matilda.

Getting to his feet, Fred gritted his teeth as he ran towards the gap in the weeds from the wolves, adjusting his wand in his left hand — he'd never been more grateful to be left-handed in his life. His lungs were burning in his chest when he finally found the others, only there was no sign of the werewolves.

And no one was conscious.

Harry, Hermione, and Sirius Black were lying motionless by a riverbank, their chests rising and falling enough to let Fred know they were still alive. He rushed over to Hermione's side and placed his wand at the centre of her chest, trying to recall the name of the spell he'd researched in the library the day after witnessing Matilda faint.

"Revive...Ren-something...Rennervate? Yes, that's it... Rennervate!"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She slowly sat up and Fred placed a hand on her shoulder, "Are you alright, Hermione?"

She looked frantic. "What about Sirius–!"

"He's just behind me. I'll wake him after I get to Harry," Fred explained, walking over to the boy. He crouched by his side and placed his wand on his chest. "Rennervate!"

Harry's eyes opened immediately. He sat upright, raising his wand, "Are they gone?!"

"Yes, it's just us."

A howl sounded through the forest.

Fred looked around nervously, "We have to get back quickly. Help me carry Black once I wake him."

"Should you? He'll be in a world of pain with us moving him," Hermione said, slowly getting to her feet.

Harry nodded, "Hermione's right. It would be better if we just carry him."