By the time Christmas came around, Matilda had said a total of fifty seven words. She spent most of the time tucked away in her bedroom, lighting a cigarette as she leaned out the window, looking out at the hill on the other side of the town. Occasionally she'd do some homework or play a bit of Pass the Quaffle with Cedric, but mostly she stayed within the four yellow walls of her room.
Her quietness was not a measure of how exhausted the full moon was making her, but infact the result of Matilda saying one thing and her mother ripping into whatever statement had been made. Just the previous day, Matilda had come down the stairs to ask whether she could hang out with friends before the New Year, but Catherine did not approve.
"What have I told you about keeping your head down? I don't want you mingling with all these people," Catherine had said, shortly. "It only puts you and all of us in danger."
"I can't even see my friends anymore?" Matilda scoffed. "What is this, a prison?"
Catherine was not pleased with her remark, "Your father and I work very hard to put a roof over your head, warm meals — which you don't even eat! — and a pristine education that people like you don't usually get. That could all be taken away by those friends of yours. They would shun you if they knew who you really were, Matilda. I'm only protecting you."
And Matilda had apologised with 'sincerity', but on the inside there was a fire beginning to burn, deep and fierce. She was trapped in this house with no where to go, no one to talk to. Cedric would try and listen, but Matilda knew he was too loyal to his parents to side with her.
She was completely and utterly alone, just how her parents wanted her to be.
So, on Christmas morning, Matilda rolled out of bed with the hopes of simply opening her presents and then retreating back to her room until dinner. She pulled a Christmas sweater over her head and added another pair of socks before heading downstairs.
The four Diggory's gathered around the tree, exchanging presents and gifts with one another. Matilda had given Cedric a biography on one of his favourite Quidditch players, Catherine a new set of gardening tools, and Amos a signed copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. They all seemed pleased with their presents and thanked her with hugs and kisses — even her mother.
In return, Matilda had received a new Potions kit from her parents, and Cedric got her a collection of cassette tapes including Mazzy Star, the new Nirvana album and The Cure. She was very grateful for the gifts and was about to leave when her mother surprised her with another.
"We thought you could do with this," Catherine said, passing Matilda a box.
She took it in her hands cautiously, unsure of what she would find. "Alright..." Opening the lid, the smile that had been on Matilda's face faded. Sitting inside the box was an entire set of makeup and beauty products, along with a few books on how to improve your appearance. Matilda looked up at her mum and dad, waiting for one of them to break out of their stoic faces and let her know it was a joke. A sick joke, at that.
"You got me...a beauty set? And books to make me look presentable?"
Oh, Matilda was both humiliated and offended.
Catherine nodded, stepping forward and looking through Matilda's hair, "Yes, though I suppose we should have added a hair-care treatment too..."
Cedric stood up from where he'd been sitting to have a look at the gift, " 'Blemish-Away Cream — made of Moonstone and Boomslang Skin', 'Snail-Goo — for the best sleep of your life!'. Mum, what are these?"
"They'll make Matilda look beautiful," Catherine said, opening the Blemish-Away Cream, scooping some of the white cream onto her finger tips and rubbing it into Matilda's face. Matilda tried to pull out of her mother's reach but Catherine kept her still. "See? You look so much better now. Perhaps someone will finally find you attractive."
"Yes, thank you so much, Mum," Matilda said in a small voice, holding pack the tears that prickled in her eyes.
Before she could let them see her tears fall, Matilda kissed each of them on the cheek and piled all her things in her arms, carrying herself upstairs to her room. She dumped her gifts on her desk and caught sight of herself in the mirror and frowned. She was tall, a trait that ran in her family, but the way her skinny arms and stick legs stood out, she just looked lanky and awkward. She hugged her jumper closer to her, wishing she could absorb it and look less sickly.
"Matilda?"
She turned her head to see Amos standing in the doorway, a gentle smile on his ageing face. Matilda stepped away from the mirror and slumped onto her bed and he stepped into her room.
"I can tell you weren't too pleased about that last gift," he said softly, sitting down on the chair in front of her desk. He reached out for her hand, "Your mother didn't mean to be so rude, she just wants you to feel normal."
Matilda didn't respond, instead focusing intently on the pattern of flowers on her bedsheets.
"Look, when Catherine was your age, she was popular and everyone loved her," Amos said, looking over his shoulder to make sure his wife couldn't hear him. "She doesn't know what it's like to be reserved or quiet. But I do, Tilly. I know it's difficult for your mother to find some common ground between the two of you, so this is her trying. It's an olive branch."
"An olive branch?"
"You know, she's trying to connect."
Matilda scoffed, "She could do better. Just the other day she told me I couldn't hang out with my friends, Dad. They're the only people I have and now I can't see them."
Amos frowned at this, "I'll speak to her tonight, I'm sure we'll figure something out. It's not fair on you to not have anyone to talk to. What about Cedric's friends? What are they like?"
"I am not hanging out with Cedric at school," Matilda said firmly, bringing Amos to chuckle. "Sammy, Freya and Stacey are in Hufflepuff though, so I don't see why I can't hang out with them."
"I'll do my best, Matilda," Amos said, pressing a kiss to her hand before standing up. Just as he went to leave, he hovered by her door, "Just...try to see where she's coming from, eh?"
Matilda grumbled something that could pass as an 'alright' and layed back down in her bed, rubbing her eyes. With the full moon getting closer, Matilda could feel the symptoms of a bad moon settling in.
She stared at the roof, wishing her life were completely different. She dreamed of being Patricia Stimpson, the beautiful Ravenclaw that was capable of pulling any guy or girl she wanted. She wouldn't have to worry about full moons or what she ate, and she would have no reason to turn Fred Weasley away.
Matilda still didn't know how to feel about Fred. A part of her did mourn the loss of him, but she was fairly sure it was more to do with the tingles he sent through her body than actually him, but either way she wasn't feeling too pleased about the upcoming semester. Sighing, Matilda reached to her window sill and blindly placed a cassette in the player, closing her eyes as the opening of The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel blessed her ears.
"Wait, but I thought she was into you?"
"So did I! Why else would she have been snogging me all this time?"
Fred scratched the back of his head, looking at George for an explanation as he retold what had happened when he spoke to Matilda. It had been a whole day of Fred acting grumpy and upset, and George was getting annoyed by his twin's pessimistic attitude. He decided to press Fred on the matter as they got ready for bed, ensuring there was no way for him to walk away. Luckily, it hadn't been too hard to get Fred to open up, and George couldn't say he was surprised by what he said.
George shrugged, "I mean, you're kinda doing the same thing with Patricia. You don't really like her, do you?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Fred said, but his tone wasn't convincing. "I like being around her, although she can be a massive pain in the arse. She's a good kisser."
"So you only like her when she's snogging your face off?"
"When you say it like that it sounds bad."
"Maybe that's how Matilda feels with you," George said simply, climbing into his bed. "She has said multiple times that she hates you, I would be surprised if that changed any time soon. I think she just likes having you around to kiss."
"She's using me?!" Fred asked, exasperated.
George gave a wry smile, "Sorry, mate."
"Ugh, I'm so stupid," Fred groaned, running a hand over his face. "I should've seen it coming. It's just...sometimes I felt like there was something there, even when Matilda said there wasn't."
"Must've imagined it," George said. "Now, can I go to sleep? Or do I need to teach you more on social behaviours?"
"Fuck off."
The next morning, Matilda woke up to a tray of warm breakfast by her bedside table. Sitting up in her bed, she rubbed her eyes and breathed in the scent of french toast. There was a scuffle across her room and Matilda saw Catherine shuffling through her letters.
"What are you doing?" Matilda asked, furrowing her brows.
Catherin picked up one letter and turned to her, "Just making sure you aren't putting anything valuable in these letters. I've heard the Ministry is tightening its restrictions of werewolves and I want you to be as careful as ever."
"I always am, Mum," Matilda said. "Why'd you make me breakfast?"
"The boys are out doing Merlin knows what, so it's just us, and I figured you could do with something nice considering how much you have to go through."
Matilda eyed her mother with suspicion, "Really?"
"Don't take that tone with me," Catherine said sharply. "I spoke with your father last night. He told me you're unhappy with the way I'm managing your condition."
"And?"
"I think you should be grateful we didn't throw you out the moment you got bit, young lady," Catherine said with a shrill laugh as though it was ridiculous for Matilda to think any different. "I have put up with your bratty behaviour for the last sixteen years you've lived under this roof," she continued, pointing her finger. "Not once have I heard Cedric complain as much as you have."
Matilda rolled her eyes, "Because Cedric is a pushover, Mum. Honestly, I don't understand how you don't see it. He practically worships the ground you and dad walk on and does his absolute best to please you. Obviously, he's not going to do anything wrong."
"And now you insult your own brother!" Catherine threw her hands exasperatedly. "You should be taking lessons from him. I know you've been disobeying my rules. Hanging out with those troubling Weasley twins...Who do you think you are?"
"I don't hang out with them!" Matilda insisted as Catherine stepped forward, her stature more menacing than ever. "I'm not friends with them!"
"That's not the problem, Matilda. The more people you talk to the higher the chance your secret will be revealed."
"Fuck you!" Matilda shouted, finally having enough. "You keep putting words into my mouth. Your only reason for treating me like shit is so that you can maintain your pretty idea of a perfect family. Well guess what, Mum? No one likes it here!"
Catherine raised her hand and brought it over Matilda's face, slapping her across her cheek, "You need to learn how to be quiet. I'll do whatever it takes to burn out that stupid fire inside of you that you've got."
Matilda was still clutching the side of her face, staring at her mother with wide eyes. Her lips drew back into a scowl, "I'd like to see you try."
The moment the words escaped her mouth, Catherine grabbed a fistful of her hair. She dragged her through the house as Matilda wailed, screaming and grabbing on to anything she could. She was brought outside to the shed, the very one that Matilda spent her full moons.
With her father and brother out, no one was there to help her. Matilda was useless against Catherine, being shoved down into the dingy shed and landing in a heap on the thin mattress. She sat there hopelessly as Catherine locked the door, using both magic and muggle locks — ensuring Matilda wouldn't be able to get out.
When the clanging of chains stopped, Matilda heard Catherine walk away. Matilda rested her head against the metal of the shed, waiting for her mother to come out and scold her once more before releasing her. Her eyes slipped shut after hours of staring into space, but not before hearing her mother greet her father and Cedric.
"Ah, there you two are! It's going to be a quiet one for the rest of the holidays, Matilda has gone off to stay with her friend, Sammy. She's ensured me that she can Floo to the school for the full moon, so we have nothing to worry about." Matilda could almost hear the smile in Catherine's voice.
"You mean she's not coming back before term starts?" Cedric asked. C'mon, Ced, figure it out.
"Yes, dear. Matilda said she was invited to a holiday of some sort and I figured I'd let her go since I've been so harsh on her as of late."
Matilda tried to make a sound of protest, but her voice was caught in her throat. A silencing charm. She had seriously misunderstood Catherine.
"I knew you'd come around," Amos said. "I'm sure she's very grateful."
The sound of their footsteps disappearing haunted Matilda. Surely she wasn't going to stay in here for another week or so? No, it would only be for the one night and then Catherine would send her off. She wasn't that cruel, after all.
"If I can handle my werewolf transformations, I think I can handle one night in here," Matilda said, reassuring herself.
Oh, but she was wrong. So very wrong.
It wasn't just one night locked inside that shed.
It was eight.
Eight nights of camping on the thin mattress in the corner of the room. Eight days of shoddy food passed through the little latch in the door. Eight days of shivering in the cold, fearing that perhaps she would die right there, freezing to death in a small metal shed where no one would find her.
The full moon was worse.
The wolf was savage — howling and barking at anything, chewing whatever it could get its teeth on, and whimpering in the early morning as the wounds it had made began to sting.
Matilda couldn't move when she woke up on New Year's Day. She was shaking profusely, either from the cold or the mauled skin on her leg, she didn't know which. She spent hours laying there in her own blood, waiting for someone to remember that she was there.
When the door unlocked, there was a rush of footsteps and Matilda caught a flash of her mother's wide eyes. She scooped Matilda into her arms and apparated on the spot, and Matilda's vision went black.
Remus Lupin awoke from his nap to the sound of an owl tapping at his window. He ran his hand over his face, attempting to erase the exhaustion he felt before walking over to the window. He untied the letter from the owl and fed it a few owl treats before watching it take off into the sky, the sun just beginning it's descent.
He unraveled the letter, his brows knitting tighter and tighter as he read further. After he was done, Remus placed it on his desk and opened his drawer, grabbing a few sprigs of aconite and a salve that Snape had created for him.
Remus left his office and made his way to the Hospital Wing as fast as he could, pushing through the aches in his legs telling him to stop. Outside the Wing he could hear an array of voices, piling atop one another and fighting to be heard.
He stepped in through the doors, finding Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and another tall woman with light brown hair that was beginning to brown. Straightening up his jacket, Remus walked up to them, worried about what he would find.
"I got your letter, Professor," he said, addressing Dumbledore. "I came as quick as I could."
"Why does he know about her condition?" the woman sneered, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Professor Lupin is our Defence teacher, Mrs Diggory," Dumbledore explained. "He knows a thing or two about your daughter's condition."
Remus smiled politely at Mrs Diggory. He turned to Dumbledore, "I brought the things you asked," He handed the aconite and salve to Madam Pomfrey who took them into her hands and disappeared behind a curtain. Remus nodded toward it. "Is she behind there?"
"She is," answered Dumbledore. He put a hand on Mrs Diggory's shoulder, "We can take it from here. You can go home now and send her things her for when term resumes."
"So she will stay here for the rest of the break?" Mrs Diggory asked, and despite her shaky voice, Remus swore he could hear relief.
"Yes, Poppy and I agree that would be best for her recovery," Dumbledore admitted. "She will be under the best of care, I promise."
With a shake of hands, Mrs Diggory was escorted from the Hospital Wing by a very stern Minerva McGonagall. Snape cleared his throat the moment the door closed behind them.
"May I raise a suspicion of mine, sir?" he requested, looking at Dumbledore. The old wizard nodded and Snape continued, "The girl behind that curtain is far more injured than I've ever seen her after a full moon. I believe it takes more than just one full moon to make someone look like that."
Remus shifted uncomfortably, "I don't want to undermine your experience, Severus, but I think you severely underestimate the effects of a full moon, especially during maturation."
Snape looked at the curtain, "I beg you to have a look, Lupin."
Remus stepped forward, pulling back the curtain and looking at the girl in the bed. He felt a surge of anger flow through him, cursing the Gods for allowing this to happen to such a young girl. "Merlin's beard..."
"Do you understand me, now?"
He nodded his head, walking over to the seat beside Matilda's bed and running a hand over his face as though it would make some of her injuries disappear. None of them did. She was shaking in her bed, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her face was sickly pale, as though all the blood in her body had disappeared.
She had scratches all over her skin, from shallow grazes to deep wounds that were being covered in the salve he'd handed Poppy. Remus noted she looked much thinner than he recalled, which was rather concerning considering she'd been small to begin with.
"What happened to her?" he whispered, feeling the anger he hadn't felt in a long time bubbling.
It reminded him of the time Sirius came home from Christmas holidays with all sorts of bruises on his skin, a result of the abuse he faced from his parents. It was that protective instinct, the type that made him want to make someone pay for what they'd done.
Dumbledore placed a hand on Remus' shoulder, "I hope to find out when she wakes. For now, we have to be patient as she gets better."
"She's got an incredibly high fever, Albus," Poppy said, touching the back of her hand to Matilda's forehead. "I dare say it triumphs Mr Lupin's from back in his day."
Remus' eyes softened as he looked at Matilda, "She must feel so horrible," He glanced up at Dumbledore, "Do you s'pose I could be the one she speaks to first?"
"I think that's a brilliant idea, Remus," Dumbledore said. He turned to the other professor, "Severus, accompany to my office, will you?"
"Of course, sir."
"We'll be off, then," Dumbledore announced, squeezing Remus' shoulder once before turning away, Snape following after him.
Remus leaned forward and brushed away a few strands of hair that had stuck to Matilda's face, "I'm so sorry, Matilda...So very sorry."
Again, that protective feeling returned, though this time it felt more...paternal. Remus felt as though she had been his responsibility and he'd let her down. Perhaps if he pushed for Matilda to be authorised to take the Wolfsbane Potion home with her...perhaps if he'd given her more aconite...
He took hold of her hand, careful not to irritate the cuts that covered her skin. "I won't let this happen again."
And Remus Lupin swore to that.