Hogwarts Reimagined

Content warning: homelessness, food insecurity, reference to foster system type authorities

Rhiannon and Dudley stayed with Mrs Figg for a week and a half before anything changed. The old lady was kind, but seemed anxious and Rhiannon felt as if Mrs Figg were walking on eggshells around her and Dudley. Maybe it was her imagination, but neither she nor Dudley could entirely relax. It became clear after the first night that Mrs Figg had connections to the magical world and Rhiannon wasn’t sure what to make of it – it could make her the perfect ally and left Rhiannon at no risk in case of accidental magic... but on the other hand, the magical world had sent her back to the Dursleys. The highest authority she could think of in the magical world was Dumbledore – so to her, any association to it meant association to him.

Still, understandable paranoia aside, it was a welcome reprieve. Mrs Figg found replacement clothes for Rhiannon out of storage, and to their surprise produced a potion from the bathroom that, with permission, she combed into Rhi’s choppy, brutally hacked-off hair. With the aid of the potion it evened out and slowly regrew by the end of that day to the length it had been before Rhiannon was returned to the Dursleys’ and her hair hacked off to a more appropriate length for a boy.

Newly clothed and her hair mended, Rhiannon felt more like herself but they were still in a sort of stasis. No-one had come knocking, but they were still too close to the Dursleys for either Rhiannon or Dudley to relax entirely and Mrs Figg’s hesitation only worsened this. Nothing bad was happening, but nothing else happened either and the two of them were left waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Mrs Figg’s cats reminded Rhiannon of her own, and she asked Mrs Figg what was going to happen to her, if Rhi could ever have her back, later that Thursday afternoon. Mrs Figg didn’t have a clear answer for Rhiannon and the two kids didn’t see her much the following Friday as she went out for most of the morning leaving them to their own devices. Rhiannon was uneasy at the absence though she couldn’t have explained why. But her suspicion was not unfounded, and when Mrs Figg returned the old woman sat Rhiannon and Dudley down in the lounge to talk. It took some time for her to gather her thoughts, but Rhiannon’s attention was on the parchment in Mrs Figg’s hands. It was partly unfurled and Rhiannon’s unease grew as she realised the ink was green. Her suspicion was confirmed as Mrs Figg shifted the parchment in her hands and it unrolled some more, revealing the Hogwarts crest stamped at the top.

“Now look, kids... I realise you had nowhere else to go. But I can’t keep you here long term or there’ll be questions and then trouble. I’ve had to get the Ministry and Hogwarts involved. You can stay here until then, but someone is going to come by tomorrow to talk to you both and we’ll all figure out where to go from here.” explained Mrs Figg fretfully, twisting the parchment back and forth in her hands as she spoke.
Rhiannon and Dudley stared at eachother, then back at Mrs Figg. The old woman was still speaking but Rhi had stopped processing what was said, and eventually Mrs Figg fell silent, shaking her head.
“All right well... Let me get the midday dinner on. If you two head back to your room I’ll call when it’s ready. Just... take some time to think. We all only want to help, make sure you’re both safe.” Mrs Figg finished with a sigh.
Rhi didn’t register that she’d said anything more until Dudley shook her shoulder gently, rousing her from her numb state just enough to get up off the couch and stumble along ahead of him down the hallway to the spare room.

When the door closed behind them, Rhiannon whirled around and clutched at Dudley’s arm, panicked. “N-n-no- no – if she’s gone to Hogwarts that means D-d-d-Dumbledore and he’ll send us b-b-ba-back, we can’t...” she trailed off, sitting down on the low bed and hugging her knees up to her chest. Dudley shook his head resolutely and began to pace around the room, snatching up their few belongings as he went. Rhiannon didn’t really process what he was doing, she only stared blankly at the wall.

Her cousin had changed a great deal from when she had known him before. Dudley was still heavyset as he had been but he looked sick and held himself differently in his own skin – when Rhiannon had first seen him passing in the hallway of the Dursley house, she’d wanted to cry. His manner, where before he had been brash and bullying, was quiet and sullen. He spoke a great deal less and his voice was flat and weary around the edges when he did. But he coped differently under pressure than Rhiannon did – where she so often fell apart he turned inwards and threw his energy into the task at hand. And in this case, it meant he took charge.

Dudley pressed Rhiannon’s closed backpack into her hands and nodded grimly when Rhi stared blankly at him. “Then we have to go. Like you suggested before – Fairlands station. We can get into Guildford and get a map, and then catch the next bus – I don’t know, somewhere, we’ll figure it out.” he said, already slinging his own backpack across his hunched shoulders. When Rhiannon didn’t respond he shook her shoulder gently and helped her to her feet. Then he looked around the room for a way out.
Mrs Figg’s house was only a single storey and there was a large window at the head of Dudley’s mattress that stretched from floor to ceiling. The bottom half-panel was only glass but the top swung open and that was their way out. Dudley crossed the room to push the window open to its’ widest point and peered out it, grimacing. He took his backpack off and dropped it out the window ahead of him, then turned back and held out his hand to Rhiannon. “C’mon, you’re shorter – I’ll help you out.”

Rhiannon followed along numbly and Dudley half-lifted her up over the bottom panel and then lowered her on to the ground outside. She ducked under the open top window and picked up his bag, then stepped back so he could follow. For Dudley the exercise was more of a squeeze but he managed it, and the two of them scuttled across the garden with their heads down, their hearts in their mouths. Rhiannon could hardly breathe until they squeezed through a gap in the hedge and they were out on the street – not Privet Drive but another that ran perpendicular to it, Mrs Figg’s house was on the corner at the bottom of the street.

Hand in hand they ran, going the long way round to avoid Privet Drive altogether. Dudley puffed but he made no complaint even as he struggled to keep up, Rhiannon slowed her frantic pace for him as they got closer to the bus stop a few streets over.

A bus was just about to pull away when Rhiannon and Dudley reached the stop, however they ran in front of it and managed to get on just in time. Luckily Dudley had his school bus pass, and when he offered some excuse about going to the uniform shop the driver let him and Rhiannon on with no real issues.

The two of them were almost sick with anxiety the whole fifteen-minute ride into Guildford, certain someone would catch them. Just as before no-one actually did, but that didn’t stop the fear that set in.
When they reached the main bus terminal at Guildford Rhiannon was again overwhelmed by the unfamiliar people and the hurry of it all. She started to relax as they blended in with the usual crowds waiting for their buses, but still clung tightly to Dudley’s arm in fear of losing him.
There were maps and route plans spread out on the back wall of the long shelter area of the bus station. Neither of the kids were tall enough to see them properly and in several places people stood in front of key pieces of information, but luckily there were a few paper copies of the routes and map remaining in the little plastic holders screwed to the wall. They pored over it unable to decide on a route – there were several they could think of, they weren’t sure which was best. The decision was made for them by the first bus that pulled into the station. Rhiannon and Dudley again talked their way on using the same excuse as before,

This bus trip was a lot longer, a solid hour, and it gave Rhiannon the opportunity to study the map a bit better and shove the last bits of panic back to where they could be ignored. She and Dudley talked quietly about nothing in particular and Rhi even told him some small things about Hogwarts – what little she wanted to talk about in any case. Hogwarts had seemed so bright the first year, a safe haven, but it had been promised she’d never have to go back to the Dursleys and that promise was a lie. So to Rhiannon’s eleven-year-old mind, the whole idea of Hogwarts itself had betrayed her.

From Leatherhead where the second bus took them, the kids caught a third down to Dorking. Dorking was a relatively small town compared to Guildford or even the suburbs of Fairlands, set on the edges of the Surrey Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Rhiannon had originally been thinking of heading to London with ideas of getting to Hermione’s parents’ house from there, but their excuse about the uniform shop ran out of use and they used up the last remaining bits of spare change in Dudley’s wallet getting as far as they did.
It wasn’t a good plan to begin with – wasn’t really a plan at all – but the two of them figured no one would come looking that far out for them.

So Rhiannon and Dudley found themselves late in the evening of Friday the 19th stranded, with no money left, just a map. Even Dudley had become used to limited food in Rhiannon’s time away from the Dursleys’, but he suffered far more than Rhiannon did at their sudden total lack of any support, and they went hungry that night, curled up underneath a spiky bush using their backpacks as pillows.

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The next day, Rhiannon and Dudley tried to talk their way onto another bus in the vain hopes of getting into London. By now they were significantly more disheveled, and the bus driver not only flatly refused them but wanted to call the police. Rhiannon and Dudley panicked and ran for the hills, making their way deeper into the huge national park area.

After that, they looked eachother over and realised they wouldn’t hold up to anyone’s closer inspection. So they retreated into the forest, thankful it was summer and the two light blankets they’d managed to grab were warm enough for the time. After two days they were starving and miserable, so late that night they risked the hike back to the edge of town to scrounge around the bins. They had little luck – Rhiannon had some experience with foraging in rubbish when the Dursleys were at their worst but in summer there wasn’t a great deal that was safe to eat. But on their way back they found a backpack set out on the stairs of a house they’d already passed.

Rhiannon’s immediate thought was that it might be a trap, and she looked around distrustfully for anyone else nearby. Seeing nobody, she darted forward and snatched it up before bolting for cover. She settled down between a parked car and the wall of another house to look at what had been left out.
The backpack itself was tatty, nothing special, and one of its’ handles was coming loose. But inside was what they needed. Someone had obviously seen them, and the bag they’d left was packed with food. There was clean water, muesli bars, a half-empty jar of peanut butter with a loaf of bread and a blunt butterknife with its’ tip broken off. Someone had thrown in a few packets of dry noodles in, along with three apples and some other packets of chips. At the very bottom was a ratty woollen blanket. There was no note, no clue as to the motivation of their benefactor – just a simple kindness.

Rhiannon scrubbed tears from her eyes and zipped the bag closed hurriedly, shifting her other backpack around to allow her to swing the food bag over one shoulder by its’ more sturdy strap. She ran back to Dudley and hurriedly told him what happened. They shared a muesli bar and then started the hike back into the forest in silence.

Now they weren’t in imminent danger of starving, there was nothing to do with their days. Neither were able to think of a long-term solution, they just set themselves to the struggle of surviving. Over the next few days they wandered deeper into the hills more for something to do than for any specific reason, aside from the persistent nagging sensation that they might be caught and sent back to the Dursleys that was. The days took on a certain sort of monotony – ration food, look for water, walk, sleep, repeat. Their energy was flagging and though they had enough food for a while, they were always short for water and it wore at them. They found a stream but it was too near a road for them to stay anywhere near it, though they did risk refilling their water from there. This wasn’t sustainable. And it would have come to bite them sooner or later, had something else not come to bite them first.

Late on the night of the twenty-fourth, not that either of them had any way of keeping the time at that point, a chorus of howls started up in the hills not far from them. Dudley suggested wolves, until Rhiannon pointed out that there hadn’t been any wolves in Britain for centuries. Something nagged at the back of her mind and she hurried with Dudley to pack up their makeshift campsite. They traded ideas back and forth but neither had anything that made sense. Still, it bothered them both and they started to hike back down through the hills towards the town.

The howls persisted, and something continued to nag at the back of Rhiannon’s mind as they walked. She took out her wand, shivering, and then stopped in a clearing as suddenly she had the answer. With her wand hand she pointed up at the sky, where a full moon hung above them. Dudley didn’t understand and she shook her head, pointing skywards again.

“D-d-d-Dudley, we’re go-g-going to, hhhh – we have to ru-run.” Rhiannon whispered, wiping the sweat from her free hand on her pants. “That’s not h-hoo-hooli-gans messing around.”

Dudley’s brown eyes, greyish in the moonlight, went very wide, and he pressed closer to Rhiannon, mouthing the word silently as it sank in.
Werewolves.
Putting haste over caution, the two of them fled downhill towards the town, glancing back over their shoulders as suddenly it felt as if even the trees hunted them.