lumos // fred weasley

cinq

word count: 1.7k

It was the night before the full moon, and Celestine was sat on one of the lonely couches in the Gryffindor common room after a horrid nightmare; one steady fire burning in front of her as she watched the flames dance. Her thoughts were racing a million miles an hour, and she had no single trace of clarity in her mind. It was all too loud, and yet the air around her was too quiet.

This would be the third time her body would have to go through the agonizing transformation of human to werewolf. Merlin, she wasn't ready; she was never ready. Even after all the coaching from Professor Lupin, she was absolutely terrified. She hated the person... no, the thing that did this to her. She was supposed to be asleep upstairs, completely oblivious to the full moon approaching, rather than the active awareness of always knowing how long she had. It was like a clock that reset, and each reset, Celestine would feel okay again. But as the clock continued forward, she so desperately wished for time to stop. She didn't want to reach 00:00, she didn't want to be forced to face her worst fear.

The girl sighed and brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her cheek. Her body was restless. It was almost screaming at her to get up and move, it was tired of staying in one place for so long. So, Celestine stood from her seat on the couch, wandering blindly out of the common room and into the darkened hallways of Hogwarts.

She wrapped her arms around her torso, the chilling temperature sending goosebumps across her skin. She was sure to get detention if Filch was to find her, but what was he going to do? She wouldn't be able to serve it for at least three days. There was the full moon, and then recovering from the full moon, when her body ached and news scars needed tending to. The thought made her shudder.

  Her barefeet hit the grass of the courtyard, and she continued walking through the cold, September air, a chill running through her bones. The almost-full moon beamed overhead, and she wanted nothing more than to hex it into oblivion, to be rid of the one demon she had to face.

  She flinched at the memory of the werewolf attacking her, the dancing shadows in the moonlight warping into the very nightmare. She could remember vividly the claws slicing into her side, the teeth biting into the skin of her shoulder, tearing the flesh and leaving a nasty scar where the sliver and dittany mixture sealed the wound. As she recalled the memory, she almost felt the blood dribbling down, a scream at the tip of her tongue.

  Celestine wanted to escape — no, she needed to escape. But how was she supposed to do that? She couldn't escape a disease within her, a disease she was forced to live on with for the rest of her painful days of life. She almost wished her parents had left her to die rather than save her life. It would have been so much easier; for everyone.

  She leaned back against the grass, the dew seaping into her clothing. As cold as it was, however, Celestine didn't care. She had to distract herself somehow.

  It didn't take long for Celestine's eyes to begin closing, and she fell asleep in the chilling September weather, to the hope she wouldn't wake up.

  Fred and George Weasley woke up that Thursday, the thirtieth of September at a reasonable time of six o'clock in the morning. Of course, in their eyes it wasn't reasonable as their little brother, Ronald, shook them from their beloved slumber.

  "What could you possibly want right now, Ron?" George groaned, wiping the grogginess from his eyes.

  Fred had turned to the other side and pulled the covers tighter in his own bed, prefering to ignore both brothers and attempt to sleep more.

  "Angelina woke up Hermione to ask me to ask you if you'd seen Celestine this morning," he said quickly. "Apparently no one has seen her since last night."