Chapter 16 – A Howl in the Night
Just like she had wanted, she and Fred were taking things slow. There was no official title, no declarations carved into tree trunks. Just… something budding between them. Something warm. Steady. He still made her laugh until she cried, still got on George's nerves with perfectly timed sarcasm, still left Fizzing Whizzbees in her bag with ridiculous little notes like, "Emergency rations. In case of troll attack." It hadn't changed who they were. It had only shifted.
It was Sunday, and Professor Lupin still hadn't returned to class. His office remained locked, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom dark and silent, with Snape once again standing in as the temporary professor, to the entire student body's dismay.
Ava tried not to worry, but her gut twisted every time she passed the corridor leading to Lupin's office. She hadn't told anyone what she'd overheard in the hospital wing, not really. But she had mentioned to Fred and George the shouting match between her father and Professor Lupin.
"Maybe they went to school together and Lupin hexed your dad one too many times," Fred offered, fiddling with a cauldron inside the twins' not-so-secret lair—a long-abandoned storage room deep in Hogwarts, now transformed into a chaotic workshop for Weasley experiments.
Ava sat perched on an old wooden table, legs swinging slightly as she spun the Anisphere Fred had given her. "My father always said he was respected in school. Refined. Brilliant."
George scoffed. "Yep. Definitely hexed."
"Probably fought over a girl," Fred added without looking up. "That'll do it every time."
Ava raised an eyebrow. "You think my dad held a twenty-year grudge over a woman?"
"Hey," George said, hopping up to sit beside her. "Some guys go absolutely mental over girls. Sometimes they throw people into lakes. With wind."
Fred gave a proud, smug little shrug. "Can't confirm or deny."
"Unhinged, the lot of you," Ava said, grinning.
"Oi, speaking of brilliance—" Fred suddenly sat up straighter and waved George over. "Try this. I think I've finally got it."
He held up a suspicious-looking lump of toffee with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"If I wake up with a tail again, I swear—" George began.
"No tail," Fred promised. "Go on."
George popped it into his mouth, chewed once, and gagged immediately.
He bent over, coughing into a nearby cauldron. "Merlin's soggy socks, Fred! That tastes like dragon dung soaked in feet!"
Fred beamed. "Brilliant! That means the base is working."
"You've poisoned me," George groaned. "Tell Mum I went heroically."
Fred held out a hand. "Stick out your tongue."
George complied cautiously, then crossed his eyes to see. "Still normal. Unless it's grown invisible and three feet long."
"Damn it," Fred muttered. "Back to the drawing board."
George staggered to the table. "Add more chocolate next time. And maybe don't base the flavor on actual dung."
He grabbed Fred's water bottle and took a long, dramatic gulp. "I'll be tasting that for a week."
Stretching his arms, George began toward the door. "Right… I'm off to meet Lee. And you"—he pointed at Fred—"try not to rope her into taste-testing anything explosive. You've already offended one palate today."
Fred gave a mock salute. "No promises."
George threw Ava a dramatic bow as he left. "Try not to snog too loudly. It echoes in here."
"Goodbye, George," Ava said with a roll of her eyes.
Then, just like that, they were alone.
Fred watched the door click shut, then turned slowly to Ava with a wicked grin.
"Finally," he said, stepping between her knees, and draping his arms around her waist.
Ava tilted her head, teasing. "Now that you've got me all to yourself, Mr. Weasley… what's the plan?"
"Oh, I've got an idea," he said. "Come with me."
"Should I be scared?"
"Terrified," he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose.
They crept out of the castle, fingers laced, dodging patrols. Their footsteps were light against the stone, broken only by the occasional owl or the wind rustling through the trees. Fred didn't speak but instead just glanced at her with that half-smile and squeezed her hand.
The sky was painted in violets and gold, the lake shimmering beneath it like ink and fire. Fred led her to a hill just above the waterline, where they could see the castle silhouetted against the sky. They sat on the cool grass, side by side, the breeze tugging gently at their cloaks.
"You come here often?" Ava asked.
"When I want to think," he said. "Or catch glimpses of snogging couples."
"Romantic voyeurism. A classic Weasley trait."
Fred placed a hand over his heart, wounded. "I brought you here to share this pure and meaningful moment."
She eyed him. "You were hoping for a snogfest."
"Not hoping. Manifesting."
She laughed and swatted his arm. He flopped backward with a dramatic groan. "You've killed me!"
Ava pounced, straddling his stomach as he looked up at her, wide-eyed.
"Any last words?" she teased and dug her fingers into his sides.
Fred howled with laughter, twisting and squirming. "Mercy!"
Their laughter melted into quiet as he rolled her beneath him, his fingers still entwined with hers. His breath hitched as he leaned in, brushing her lips with a soft kiss, then deeper, a heat blooming between them.
But when she shifted slightly, Fred froze. "Too fast?"
Ava nodded, cheeks burning.
He pulled back immediately, no shame, only concern. "Sorry. Got carried away."
She reached for his hand. "I did enjoy the snogfest."
His grin returned. "I knew it. We have chemistry."
But just as his thumb traced lazy circles on her palm—
A howl split the night. Low. Haunting. Ancient. Another followed, closer.
Fred was already on his feet, his face no longer playful but alert. He yanked her upright with both hands. "We need to go. Now."
They took off, crashing through the underbrush, the laughter and kisses from moments ago dissolving into frantic footfalls and rustling leaves. The forest had gone dark, shadows swallowing everything in silver and black. Her ankle throbbed from the uneven terrain and her breath ragged as I tried to keep pace. "Fred–wait–" she gasped. "I can't–"
Her words were cut off as she tripped over an exposed root and hit the earth hard. The air punched out of her lungs, and her palms scraped against damp leaves and moss. Fred skidded to a stop ahead, dirt spraying at his heels. He spun around just as she pushed herself up on one elbow.
And that's when they saw it… a figure. Collapsed near the trees. Bare-chested. Pale.
"Someone's hurt!" Ava she whispered hoarsely, pointing. "Fred—look!"
He stepped in front of her, arms out slightly, as if ready to shield her from whatever it was. "Stay back. I'll check."
But she was already moving. Her heart pounded wildly in my chest, not just from fear but something deeper. Recognition. Dread. The man was curled awkwardly on his side, his body half-hidden in the tall grass, skin slick with sweat. As she drew closer, the unmistakable scars across his shoulder and back came into focus and her breath caught. "Professor Lupin!"
She dropped to her knees beside him, the chill of the earth seeping into her bones. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven gasps. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead. His hands were curled loosely, twitching as though caught in the last shivers of a nightmare.
"Fred!" She shouted, not taking my eyes off Lupin. "Flares! Now!"
Fred sprinted up behind her and shot a flare into the sky. The sparks burst in a cascade of red and gold, casting eerie shadows over the trees. She gently cupped Lupin's face, trying to lift him. "Professor, it's me. It's Ava. Can you hear me?"
His eyelids fluttered. For a moment, he seemed to focus, silver eyes blinking at her in confusion. Then, like something fragile breaking open inside him, a small, faraway smile tugged at his lips.
"Vanessa…?"
His voice was raw, almost inaudible. But the name cut through her like a spell. Before she could say anything before she could even breathe, his eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward into my arms, unconscious. She stared at him, heart racing, fingers trembling against the side of his face. Behind her, she heard Fred's breath catch. And somewhere deep in her stomach past the fear, past the cold, a question bloomed like ice spreading across glass.
What the hell just happened?
