MATILDA - fred weasley

Chapter 31

he following night, Matilda was wishing she and Fred had stayed a little longer at the beach — dipped their toes in, maybe even gone for a swim. Instead, she sat anxiously awaiting the Full Moon to make its appearance.

It was a terrible anticipation; as if waiting for the moon to rise wasn't torment enough, Matilda's mind had been plagued by images of him all day. Greyback taunted her in her nightmares, his presence so vivid and unsettling that she couldn't shake the feeling something about it wasn't natural. There was a dark, twisted edge to these dreams that made her skin crawl.

Since the attack, Matilda had come to terms with her new reality. She was a werewolf, bitten by Greyback himself—those were the cold, hard facts she had learned to live with. Amos had sworn to protect her from Greyback's malevolence if he ever returned, and Matilda had clung to that promise like a lifeline. But now, that security was beginning to fray.

Something had shifted in the air over the past few weeks. It crept into the house, settled in the crevices, in the creaks of the floorboards, and in the unnerving silence of the night. There was a sense of something stirring, something dark and foreboding that made her skin prickle with unease.

She'd thought about writing to Professor Lupin, wondering if he too had been experiencing this gnawing sense of dread. But she didn't know where he was, and she doubted he would be willing to respond now that his secret was out.

So, Matilda sat shivering in the small, weathered shed in her yard, waiting for the inevitable loss of her mind as the moon crept higher in the sky. The fear and anticipation gnawed at her, the weight of what was to come pressing down like a suffocating blanket, leaving her feeling more alone than ever.

✧.*

Long after her soft, scarred skin had turned to fur, Matilda smelled it.

Smelled him.

✧.*

"Albus! It's an emergency! We need backup!"

Arthur Weasley brandished his wand with a swift, practised motion, sending his Patronus darting off into the night with his urgent message. He cast a quick glance at Molly, who stood beside him, her wand raised in a defensive stance. Her eyes were sharp, her expression fierce, ready for whatever lay ahead. To their left, Amos and Catherine mirrored their posture, though with a noticeable lack of the confidence and bravery that Arthur and Molly exuded—likely due to the knowledge that Britain's most feared werewolf was prowling their property.

The Floo call from Amos had caught Arthur and Molly off guard. They had been in the middle of a quiet family dinner when the desperate urgency in Amos's voice had compelled them to leave everything behind and rush to the Diggory household without delay. Fred and George had wanted to follow, their protestations loud and insistent, but their parents had been firm, ordering the reluctant twins back to the dining table with their siblings.

As soon as they arrived at the Diggory's, Arthur knew something was wrong. He had only encountered a werewolf once before, during the Wizarding War, but the ominous atmosphere was unmistakable. A sinister presence hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. If he concentrated, he could detect the faint metallic scent of blood, mingling with the cold night air.

Every instinct screamed at him to pull Molly back, to retreat to the safety of the house. But they pressed on, driven by the urgency of the situation. Arthur's gaze swept across the darkened yard until it settled on a large, grey wolf standing further down the driveway, its eyes glowing with a menacing intelligence. The beast's presence alone was enough to set Arthur's nerves on edge, but it was the growls and frantic commotion coming from a nearby shed that truly sent a chill down his spine.