She was a misfit, he was a git.
Matilda Diggory enters her fifth year of school, ready to remain as under the radar as possible, only there's a catch. She's somehow managed to catch the eye of a particularly annoying redhead, who seems hell-bent on...
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Matilda knew two things.
One: she hated the sound of screaming.
Two: she couldn't get enough air in her lungs.
It had nothing to do with how fast she, Fred, George, and Ginny had run through the thick woods to escape the attack, only to turn around and head back to the tent once the screams died down—but more to do with the enormous green skull that had flooded the sky.
The Dark Mark. The symbol of Voldemort.
Matilda didn't realise she'd seen the mark before until it was there, matching the one that had been branded onto the man who created a monster.
Fenrir Greyback.
Back in the safety of the Weasley tent, Matilda still struggled to breathe. Her hands were clasped against her chest, grappling for air to just go in, but no matter how hard she tried to draw breath, it wouldn't work. Bill was kneeling opposite her, his expression calm but concerned as he tried to help her slow her breathing. Fred sat beside her, pushing her hair away from her face with a gentleness that felt almost foreign in the chaos that had unfolded. On the other side of the room, George was doing the same for Ginny, who was still shaking but otherwise alright.
"It's okay," Bill assured her, his voice steady and soothing. "I'm sure they're taking care of it."But Matilda couldn't shake the image from her mind—the green skull, glowing ominously against the night sky, burned into her memory with a terrifying clarity. It was as if she had been transported back in time, back to that awful night. The green skull flashed into her vision again, and suddenly she was five years old, playing in the front yard. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. She wanted to take in the last rays of sunlight, despite her parents' insistence that she stay inside.
Matilda's heart rate skyrocketed as she grappled back a sob, her hands shaking as they sought to hold herself together. She felt every scar on her body as if they were freshly cut open again. In an instant, she was back in that front yard, the warmth of the evening replaced by the cold, terrifying presence of the grey wolf that had marked her for life. She was writhing beneath it, its fangs sinking into her hip as she screamed for her parents, for anyone, to save her.
"Tilly," Fred's voice broke through the panic, grounding her in the present. "Listen to my voice. Just focus on that, okay?" His tone was calm, steady, coaxing her back from the brink of something terrible. He continued running his hands through her hair, detangling the waves in a soothing pattern. "George and I were thinking about our big prank for when we get back to school, but we'll need your help. How much do you know about pre-timed spellwork?"
Matilda latched onto Fred's words like a lifeline, forcing herself to block out everything except the sound of his voice. The vibration of it in his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, became her entire world. She focused on the ridiculous plan he and George were concocting, already thinking about how to make it work even though her mind was still racing. But slowly, as she concentrated on the familiar banter and the absurdity of their prank, the panic began to ebb away, replaced by a calmness she hadn't felt since they'd taken off into the woods.
