Hogwarts Reimagined

CW for grief and loneliness

Just as she had when Hermione was attacked, Rhiannon stayed stubbornly close to her cousin and lost track of events around her. Ginny was entirely forgotten, all that mattered was looking after the two fallen members of her pack. Just as with Hermione, she could feel Dudley’s terror at being bound like this. It wasn’t so bad as Hermione’s because Dudley was simply different to her, he didn’t fear being trapped and unable to move in the same way and Madam Pomfrey explained that they weren’t truly awake in there – they were stuck in a sort of half-way limbo state, their brains unable to shut down but also not truly conscious. It hurt to think of them in such a state but at least Rhiannon could talk to them, have books read to them, and know that they listened. She could barely stand to look at Colin Creevey – as the first attacked, he’d been trapped the longest and his exhaustion, fear and disorientation were almost overwhelming.

Rhiannon would have stayed close to her cousin and her friend until the school closed and they were sent away, had Madam Pomfrey not insisted that she return to the Rookery with Luna. Rhiannon protested, of course, but the nurse was implacable and threatened to manhandle her on to the train if she wouldn’t go willingly. “You can’t do anything for them here. Go home. Rest. You can look after them when you come back, and they’ll need you at your best when they’re healed.”

So it was a withdrawn Rhiannon who boarded the Hogwarts Express, holding Luna’s hand tightly. She curled up in the corner of a compartment and went to sleep without even speaking to Ron, Neville or Lavender who shared the compartment with her. Luna had to shake her gently to rouse her, and held out a hand to lead her off.

“C’mon, Rhi,” they said. Rhiannon took the offered hand and stood stiffly, grimacing as her joints shrieked in protest. Today was the twelfth of April, and the first day of the full moon would be the sixteenth. Rhiannon reflected gloomily that Easter was the worst holiday to be a werewolf. She couldn’t eat any of the chocolate and raisins in hot cross buns made her stomach uneasy as well; and the holiday always coincided with the full moon.

Xenophilius stood waiting for them on the platform, fidgeting and fretting in the small crowd as he had before. Just as he had the first time, he held the knotted circle of rope that served as the Portkey, but Rhiannon paid that no mind. She let go of Luna’s hand and made a beeline for her foster-father, almost knocking him over as she hugged him fiercely and buried her face in his scruffy shirt.

“Oof, Rhi, careful, put me down!” Xenophilius spluttered, though he hugged her closely and brought Luna in under one arm as Rhiannon relaxed her grip and let him regain his footing. In her single-minded eagerness she had completely forgotten her own strength, and now her shoulder and arm muscles shrieked a chorus of protest. “It’s been a bad year. I know. Let’s get you home.” Xenophilius suggested, stroking Rhiannon’s hair in a comforting sort of way as he did so.

Rhiannon relented and allowed Xenophilius to gently pry her arms free of him. “T-t-t-th-tha-Thanks, Dad,” she mumbled, then went very red as she realised what she’d said. “I’m- I- s-s-s-s-sorry,” she stammered, hiding her face. Xenophilius tilted her chin up so she had to look at him for a brief moment, he smiled through a sheen of tears in his grey eyes.

“I’m honoured to be your dad, as long as you need one.” he replied quietly. Rhiannon lurched forward and hugged him again, she couldn’t look at Luna even as worries started to crowd in her mind. “Now, come on, let’s get this rope hooked up and get home.” he finished, and gently pushed Rhiannon away so he could loop the rope through the handles of their cases.

Rhiannon and Luna each held their cats’ travel crates, Hope had stayed at Hogwarts on the end of Dudley’s bed with Madam Pomfrey’s permission and a promise to feed the growing cat. Rhiannon barely moved as Luna pressed a section of rope into her hand, and at a concerned look from their father Luna closed zir hand over Rhiannon’s. For security, certainly, but it comforted the both of them also. They held on tightly as Xenophilius murmured the incantation and the Portkey rope yanked them through space to their own house in the low, grassy hills of Dorset. Just as before, Rhiannon was filled with the feeling of home, but it was wrong – Dudley wasn’t here. She stared numbly at the door ahead of them, unable to will her feet to move, the home-feeling pierced by a sharp ache of emptiness.

“Come on Rhi,” Luna murmured. When Rhiannon didn’t respond, Luna gently pried her fingers loose of the rope and squeezed her hand. “Do you want to go to your room, or just the couch?”

Rhiannon looked up, staring blankly at one side of Luna’s face. She registered the question a little late and opened her mouth to speak but as they sometimes did, her words caught up in her throat and she gave up, shaking her head and dropping her gaze back to the ground.
Luna sighed, and let Rhi’s hand go so he could instead squeeze her around the shoulders. “Can’t talk?” they asked quietly, to which Rhiannon again shook her head. “Okay. Dad’s got our stuff. Just, here, your hand up here on mine. Just squeeze it once for no, two for yes, alright?”

Rhiannon nodded, and Luna smiled tiredly. “Alright. Do you want to go to your room?” he asked. One squeeze – no. “That’s ok. Do you want to just sit on the couch?” At that, Rhiannon squeezed faer hand twice, and Luna smiled again. “Come on then. I’ll help you in and come back for the cats.”

Luna slung Rhiannon’s free arm around their waist and helped her into the house, where xe settled her on the comfortably untidy couch. “Want a blanket?” she asked Rhiannon softly. Rhiannon squeezed her hand twice, and managed a shaky smile. Luna got up to go and get the blanket from the cupboard, but Rhiannon clung to his hand tightly and pulled them back onto the couch. Luna laughed softly and stroked Rhiannon’s hair back from her forehead as the smaller girl’s eyes drifted closed. “Dad, can you get us a blanket?” he asked, pitching his voice a little louder so it could carry to where Xenophilius was releasing the disgruntled cats from their travel baskets. “And – would music help?” Luna asked Rhiannon, to which the answer was yes. “And the music thingy, with something quiet in.” he added.

Some time later, the two of them were curled up comfortably on the couch, the still-silent Rhiannon resting against Luna’s shoulder as they listened to peaceful wordless folk music from Xenophilius’ eclectic collection. Calypso settled herself around Rhiannon’s shoulders like a very grumpy scarf while Cheshire lay sprawled across both their laps, his paws and tufted tail twitching in his sleep. They picked at their dinner when it was time, and fell asleep in much the same way, neither wanting to be alone.

The next few days passed much the same. Rhiannon spoke very little when she did at all, even Hagrid’s bad jokes didn’t rouse her. For the first time in months the full moon was something she dreaded rather than welcomed. Even her for her first turn, awful as it had been, she had had Dudley with his endless good cheer, always the first to figure out something new and show it to her, wheedle and coax until she tried it. A year ago, if someone had asked if she missed Dudley Dursley? She would have laughed at them, a bitter sort of laugh. Now, she struggled to live her life without him.

The Lovegoods were patient with her. So patient that it hurt. Rhiannon kept expecting them to give up, or shout, or demand that she do more, say something – but they never did. Both were clearly stressed, but they never took it out on Rhiannon even as she lay on her side on the couch staring into space.

The full moon felt like it arrived too soon. Rhiannon had felt its’ growing ache in her bones for the past week, worsened because of her inactivity. It itched at her and so she spent the day of the sixteenth outside, weeding the garden and growling at the much-too-loud chickens who took issue with a werewolf so close to their coop. Eventually she ran out of gardens to tidy and busywork to complete, but the idea of going back inside to gloom was intolerable. She lay down on her back, curling a lip at the grass as it poked her cheeks, and rolled around a bit in the grass to flatten it. She wouldn’t have said she was particularly happy, but it was peaceful out here with the growing things and birdsong. Nobody needed her to talk to them. She just lay there, spotting patterns in the clouds, until before she knew it she had drifted off to sleep.

When Rhiannon woke, it was to a searing pain in her joints. She blinked open eyes gooey with sleep, and saw that it was late afternoon – no wonder she hurt, sunset was only two or three hours away. She fumbled around on the ground to her side for her cane and her breath caught as she moved her arm wrong and something clunked horribly in her shoulder. Wheezing in pain she sat up and forced herself to move the injured arm around, and with another wrenching clunk whatever had caused the problem put itself back into place. Rhiannon reached over with her other arm to grab the cane and pushed herself to her feet, hissing with pain as her knees bent too far back. Slowly, carefully, and feeling far older than her twelve years, Rhiannon hobbled into the house.

Inside had the uncomfortable air of a very busy home trying its best to look otherwise. The sounds from the kitchen were conspicuously muted, Hagrid’s heavy footsteps were audible somewhere upstairs and there was no-one in sight. Rhiannon padded over to the kitchen and poked her head in, the wonderful smells from within took the edge off her ill temper.

“H-h-how come you let me sleep all day? I had chores,” she asked Xenophilius, who had his back to her as he tended a pot on the stove.

Xenophilius turned around, startled, then relaxed as he saw her. He smiled, though there were weary lines carved around his eyes and mouth. “It is so rare you get good sleep, I’m not going to interrupt when you find some.” he replied, with a shake of his head. “And I checked your work – no weeds in sight, the path trimmed, repellent spread on the bed edges – you did your chores just fine. I know tonight will be difficult for you. Just rest for now.”

Rhiannon had no argument for that and slunk back to the living room, feeling restless and ill at ease. She curled up on a couch in the corner and stroked a half-awake Calypso to distract herself. The cat gra-aaaowed rustily at the interruption to her nap schedule, and crawled up to lay on Rhiannon’s belly. With one hand, Rhiannon reached under the couch in search of a book, and thus occupied between cat and book she had no space left to brood.

The book kept her occupied until dinnertime. Rhiannon picked at her meal but under the watchful eye of her foster-father, Hagrid and a quietly persistent Luna she managed to finish it. Hagrid reminded her of the time, and she downed her potion with a shudder of distaste and limped off to fetch her dressing gown from upstairs. Grimacing at the sensation of wearing nothing under it, she hobbled back downstairs and refused to meet anyone’s gaze as she rested against a chair in the main living area of the house. “Le-let-let’s just, get it over with,” she mumbled.

Xenophilius made a fretful sound in the back of his throat. “Are you sure – that you don’t want anyone to come with you?” he asked her.

Rhiannon’s head snapped up, she shook it vehemently. “N-nuh-no,” she replied sharply. “Please. Please don’t. I – I couldn’ – not on top ‘f this.”

Luna hummed quietly, obviously unconvinced, and Rhiannon glared at her friend. She’d long since abandoned her glasses, and rubbed at her eyes. “Please.” she whispered, stepping forward to squeeze Luna’s hand tightly.

Luna frowned, and bit his lip. “As long as you’re all right.” they replied calmly. Rhiannon frowned as well, she hadn’t missed that Luna hadn’t promised to stay away. But from the stubborn set of the tall blonde’s chin, that was as good as she’d get. Rhiannon shook her head and pulled her hand free, and limped towards the door with a tired shrug.

A deep , lonely ache grew in her belly. She expected to feel Dudley’s hand on her shoulder, hear him joke as he stumbled through the door. She hadn’t been alone before. “I- I’ll be okay in the garden, Hagrid,” Rhiannon whispered as the big man turned to follow. “Just come out after.”

Hagrid made some kind of protest, but Rhiannon was already halfway out the door and not listening to him. She shut the door behind herself and limped out into the pleasantly cool garden. The itching felt like needles now, prickling in her bones and nerves, and she groaned softly as she hobbled from the doorway to a spreading oak tree that stood at the edge of the garden. Now in mid-spring it had most of its’ leafy coat back and she settled down on the far side of it, a shelter between her and the house. The moon pulled inexorably at her but for the first time since that first turn, she didn’t want to heed it. Rhiannon sighed and untied her dressing gown, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. She averted her gaze from herself and instead turned it upwards to the moon hanging in the hazy sky.

Just as every other time, she had no chance to look away. The moon held her fast – no wonder some had worshipped it as a deity. Rhiannon’s throat ached as it reshaped itself, burning with the scream she held back. She didn’t want anyone to come running. Her limbs twitched, she tasted blood as she bit her lip to keep from shrieking as the joints of her hands shifted and stiffened and fur sprouted from oversensitive follicles. Somehow she managed to shed her dressing gown without tearing it, and before too long she stood on four shaky legs beneath the oak tree, staring up at the moon.
It wasn’t right. Wolves didn’t run alone. Rhiannon sat back down with a thud and rested her chin on her paws, whimpering softly. The wolf felt loss even more deeply than Rhiannon did ordinarily – wolves were fundamentally communal creatures, and here she was alone. The chickens peeped nervously in their run behind the house, but she didn’t feel the slightest urge to chase them. She didn’t feel a particular urge to do anything except cry – and in this shape, she couldn’t even do that. Rhiannon whined softly and covered her muzzled with her paws, careful not to scratch – she just wanted to hide until it was over.

Grass crunched under soft footsteps, and Rhiannon’s ears pricked up. She lifted her head to see who it was – it wasn’t Hagrid, his steps were too heavy and he was sitting by the front door anyway, she’d heard him come out a while ago. So who... she growled softly and stood, recognising the scent.

Wolfsbane doesn’t stop transmission! Rhiannon wanted to yell, but she couldn’t. Of course – Luna had promised her nothing. She suspected they’d been able to hear her from the house, despite her efforts. “As long as you’re all right.” She wanted to protest that she was fine, but she couldn’t do that either – as if she ever had much luck lying to Luna anyway. Slowly, her fur began to lie flat over her hackles and she emerged from behind the tree, head and tail both hanging low. It was the first time anyone at all, other than Hagrid or Dudley, had seen her like this, and even though rationally she looked roughly like a regular wolf, she couldn’t stop that fear that her friends would see a monster.

“Come on, Rhi,” Luna coaxed, holding out one hand. “We’ll just sit on the grass, alright?”

Rhiannon shrank back, fearful – she knew it was saliva that was the most common transmission, but that didn’t stop that half-rational terror of somehow passing it by accident. She looked up plaintively at Luna, but the tall blonde was unmoved as xe strode ahead of the wolf-shaped Rhiannon and sat down on the grass. “C’mon, it’s a perfectly lovely night,” he wheedled, in a tone that would have prompted a giggle from Rhiannon had she had the voicebox to do so.

As it was, Rhiannon huffed a wearily amused sort of lupine laugh and gave up the fight. There was no point telling Luna to do anything. She wasn’t stubborn the way Hermione or Ron was, or even Rhiannon herself – it was a quiet sort of stubborn, and calm – Luna would bend, let pressure flow over them, but never break. There was no winning – especially as Rhiannon wasn’t even sure she wanted to win this one, not really. For months on end she had wanted her closest friends with her – now one was, and her pack instinct won out over the protective one. She whuffed softly and flopped down on the grass beside Luna, amused to find that even in this shape and sitting, her head still only came up to Luna’s shoulder.

“You like stars, right?” Luna asked, their dreamy voice just audible in the night-time quiet. Rhiannon shrugged, a rippling motion with her changed frame. Luna giggled, startled. “Sorry!” ze said through the laughter. “It just – tickles, is all. You’re so fluffy.”

Rhiannon tilted her head, and examined herself briefly. Same old dark coat mottled with white scars, greenish to her limited colour vision around her belly and paws. But – no, Luna was right, it was thicker than usual, she just hadn’t noticed. She snorted softly – winter coat. That made sense, but it was oddly funny to her – a winter coat, like any other animal of the highlands. Pffff. She laughed her snuffly, throaty wolf laugh along with her friend, amused at the concept.

“Can I – is it alright, if I pet you?” Luna asked suddenly. Rhiannon blinked and shrank even as Luna reached out. She remembered Hermione scratching her ears as they curled up on the bed in February – it had felt nice. And she wasn’t bleeding, she wouldn’t lick Luna – Hagrid was just twenty feet away, surely it would be alright. She nodded stiffly, and burrowed her nose into Luna’s side, wrinkling it and sniffing at the texture of their windproof jacket.

Luna leaned back against Rhiannon’s shoulder and looped an arm around her neck, resting xir hand on top of Rhiannon’s head between her ears. Rhiannon closed her eyes, a low rumble rising in her throat. This was what she and Nyx both had clamoured for, for months on end – simple contact. Maybe she didn’t have someone to run with yet, but that could come later – just being was enough for now.

“So, stars,” Luna said, rapping the cover of a book – Rhiannon hadn’t noticed before, but fae must have had it with them the whole time. She flicked an ear at the sound and would have frowned if she could. “Professor Sinistra set me observation work for the holidays,” Luna continue, to Rhiannon’s growl of displeasure – the Astronomy professor was relentless with their study. “But it’s always nicer to stargaze with someone, isn’t it?” they finished.

Rhiannon rumbled quietly and rubbed her head into Luna’s hand. Personally, stars weren’t really her thing – she could take or leave them. But spending time with Luna – not so much. She flicked an ear again and nuzzled into the touch as Luna scratched her ears and nodded agreeably.

Luna flipped the book open and pulled out their wand. “Lumos minima,” she murmured, and a small globe of light flared from the wand’s tip, just enough to illuminate the page without blinding Rhiannon. Luna tapped the page with zir wand and traced the figure of a particular constellation drawn in the book. To Rhiannon it looked like squiggles and dots, but Luna explained it was Perseus – at least as far as their Roman-based teaching was concerned. To Welsh, it was Llew Llaw Gyffes, one of the figures of the Mabinogion, thought to be the cultural counterpart to the Irish Lugh Lámfhota – Lugh of the Long Arm.

“And the Milky Way – that’s Caer Gwydion, Gwydion’s Circle – the souls of heroes and rulers. I can’t put that in my notes, but it’s a nice thought,” Luna mused as he pointed out the arcing blur of the stars to Rhiannon. “It’s fascinating, the way so many cultures looked up at the stars and saw both different and similar things. That up there, that’s the Northern Crown – Coronae Borealis. The story goes that it represents the crown given to Ariadne, the Princess of Crete who helped Theseus navigate the Labyrinth, by Dionysus, and set in the heavens to commemorate their marriage. But it’s also Caer Arianrhod, with it’s own story. Or in other places it’s the chief of a council of stars, or the den of the celestial bears, or a gathering point to talk of law.”

Rhiannon whuffed softly, blowing Luna’s hair into their face, making him laugh. It seemed a shame to her that the cultural history wasn’t what the course asked for, when it was so much more interesting than plain diagrams of stars named in Latin. She rested her chin on Luna’s knee and closed her eyes, enjoying xir quiet voice telling stories of stars and the people who looked up at them as fae stroked her ears. A restful transformation was new to Rhiannon, but the wolf’s urge to run was muted and gradually she fell asleep under the stars and the gentle touch.

From that night, Luna joined her and Hagrid outside under the moon. Rhiannon still had no particular desire to run or play, so they just walked and talked. Hagrid seemed to enjoy Luna’s company, and Rhiannon listened in wonder as they talked about magical creatures of the local area and even on occasion pointed out such creatures to Rhiannon herself when they came across them. Pixies, of the electric-blue kind Lockhart had released in class, nested in the short trees and shrubs downhill from the house. They chattered quietly and hissed when Rhiannon put her paws up on the trees to look at their homes more closely, but they were far calmer than the ones from class had been and contented themselves with tweaking her ears or fur and blowing raspberries at the three, cackling in their clear bell-like voices all the while. There were gnomes in burrows around the hillsides, winged horses from the size of ordinary horses to those barely ten inches tall and a pair who stood three metres tall at the shoulder that Hagrid said must have migrated from down near Brittany in the north of France, and even a small herd of unicorns – sleeker and finer than those Rhiannon had seen in the forest at school and of all colours just as regular horses were. These creatures roamed in small groups and kept to themselves. They were deeply suspicious of a werewolf but never fled, though their guardians – small reddish-furred creatures named porlocks – chittered angrily at the three wanderers and urged the small herds to move on whenever they stumbled across them.

They covered a surprising amount of ground under the moonlight, just wandering across the hillsides and scrubby forests of Dorset, Somerset and the edges of Devon. Xenophilius never joined them, pleading a need for sleep, but Rhiannon guessed he was just trying to avoid crowding her, and she appreciated that. Just the addition of Luna set her worrying, even though all they did was walk and talk, or sometimes sit and do the same. But Luna’s hand on her shoulders in wolf-shape was a comforting weight, and Rhiannon’s misery started to ease – she had needed this. And now she had it, she could weather through the rest.

Easter as a whole faded into the background, the full moon cycle taking precedence instead. It wasn’t a holiday the Lovegoods really observed anyway, though they did plant spring bulbs on the Sunday with a little charm over them to help them grow strong. Rhiannon sighed wistfully as she helped dig holes for the bulbs, thinking Dudley would have loved this – the charm was wandless, and Xenophilius anchored it in the earth with a potion and ritual circle. And on the Easter Monday, the first day after the full moon cycle, Rhiannon reassured her foster-father and Luna that she was fine, as they took it upon themselves to visit the Ndiaye-Granger home. From their letters, Rhiannon knew they were sick with worry about Hermione but trying to keep a brave face on. So the household packed up gifts of baking and small charms for health and set themselves on the Knight Bus, the quickest way to Hampstead Garden that wouldn’t cause too much fuss among non-magical residents of the suburb.

Rhiannon twisted her cane in her grip, fidgeting as they stood before the imposing door to the Ndiaye-Grangers’ townhouse in mid-afternoon. This had been home too, for a short time, but now it felt – wrong. Hermione had made it home, right from that first summer day that Rhiannon had come out to her and they’d talked about a pink, blue and white flag and the summer ahead. No wonder her parents felt ill at ease – with their daughter Petrified, the heart of their home was cold and absent.

Xenophilius Lovegood knocked on the door and stepped back hurriedly, Rhiannon could hear footsteps from inside. Hermione’s mother Evelyn opened the door and managed a fragile smile as she greeted them. Her normally neatly braided hair had grown some since she last redid the style and was untidy around the roots as a result, with more gray around her temples than Rhiannon remembered there being before. Some braids tumbled out of the tall coil she usually wore them in, and the lines around her eyes were deeper. Rhiannon noticed her hands shook as she held the door open, and her own heart twisted. Her cane forgotten, she rushed forward to hug Evelyn with a sniffle and the start of a sob.

Evelyn squeezed Rhiannon tightly and stroked the girl’s hair in that comforting motherly way she had about her. “Welcome, all of you,” she said over Rhiannon’s head, and though her words were cheerful enough Rhiannon couldn’t miss the tremble in her voice. “It’s good to see you. Come on in.”

She released Rhiannon and led her into the house, along with Luna and Xenophilius. Unlike the year before, they hadn’t decorated the house. The smell of spices and baking was there as it had been, but it was fainter and the house, while it had always been neatly kept, felt too clean, somehow, like nobody was really living there.

“Rhiannon, Lovegoods!” Danjuma Granger exclaimed from behind the kitchen bench as they entered the room. His round face looked worn around the edges just as his wife’s did, but his smile was wearier, far less genuine. “Sit down, sit down – I should have something in the cupboards.”

Xenophilius fidgeted awkwardly, looking between the two of them. “You don’t, have to put on a show.” he replied stiffly. “We’re here for you – not for formalities.”

Danjuma sagged against the counter and rested his face in his hands as he sighed. Evelyn crossed the room and rubbed his shoulder, holding him close in a half-hug. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “It’s – habit, you know? Social rules, they’re there for when you don’t know what to do.”

Xenophilius, Luna and Rhiannon all laughed wryly – they knew that feeling intimately. Evelyn shook her head and rubbed at her temples wearily. “Sit down in any case – no point hovering in the hallway, Rhiannon dear you must be stiff – full moon’s only just over, isn’t it?”

Rhiannon blinked, realising that yes – she was indeed stiff, sore and just about ready to fall down. She hastily retreated to the lounge and was about to sink into an armchair when a soft ‘prrrp?’ halted her. In the seat she’d meant to take was the ugliest cat she’d ever seen, with tufted ears, scruffy cream-and-orange fur, and a distinctly flattened nose. The cat blinked up at her with round amber-orange eyes, and mewed rustily at her again.

Rhiannon scooped him up and sank into the chair, then set the cat on her lap. “A cat?” she asked, turning her head to look over at Hermione’s parents as they too settled themselves in the lounge.

Danjuma nodded, a little abashed, and his wife ruffled his short-cropped hair affectionately. “He’s a gift for Hermione, we got him from Hagrid. He was meant to be the Easter present, see,” he explained, his smile turning sad. “We figured we’d let her name him, but – it’s been strange, having a cat about and nothing to call him. Eve calls him Crookshanks for his funny walk, he’s a clever little thing.”

Rhiannon scratched the cat’s ears and was rewarded with a low purr, she recognised him now – the very scruffiest of Hagrid’s half-Kneazle kittens. Hermione would love him. “I’ll tell her. When I get back t’ school. Madam Pomfrey says she can hear me, kind of... that was b-b-b-b-ba-bad, at first, but I do my homework with her and she doesn’t smell so scared now.”

The Ndiaye-Grangers’ cheer deflated, and Danjuma’s lower lip trembled. Evelyn kept her emotions closer, but her dark eyes looked damp. “She’s awake in there, then?” Hermione’s father asked at last, his voice fragile. “They told us she was – frozen, sort of, so I thought that meant...”

Rhiannon shook her head miserably. “S-she-she’s frozen, alright. But she was frozen - while her brain, was active. That’s how Madam Pomfrey explained it anyway. So it can’t shut down like if she was sleeping either. It – it means she can hear me, sort of, distantly, which is – the only good thing, I think.” she explained. She was discomforted to find herself in the position of reassuring her closest friend’s parents about something that had distressed her so badly. The school hadn’t sent anyone to do this for them? Rhiannon didn’t have a lot of experience in how school matters and traumatic accidents should be handled, but – that didn’t seem right to her.

Evelyn shook her head and dashed away the few tears that had leaked free. “It’s good then, that she can hear you. You’re a good friend to her. Thankyou.” she said stiffly. Her husband squeezed her shoulder gently, and she shook off her gloom with a fragile smile. Obviously the topic of Hermione was over – something that Rhiannon felt guilty to be glad of.

Xenophilius rubbed his hands together and twisted a package over in his hands. “We brought gifts,” he offered by way of a change of subject. “Guests never come empty handed. Charms, for health and peace. Bulbs that should grow well and longer than most. And buns – though we had to put black currants in them, we don’t keep raisins around anymore.” he explained, with a wry nod to Rhiannon.

Danjuma tilted his head curiously. “You can’t eat raisins?” he asked curiously. “But you loved the buns last year.”

Rhiannon shrugged uncomfortably. “W-w-w-w-wolf thing,” she explained simply.

Danjuma frowned, then brightened. “Oh – that’s right! That’s fascinating – do you mean there’s bleedthrough of traits?” he asked. Evelyn glared at him as if to say be polite, and he grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry! It’s just so interesting – biology is an interest of mine, and since learning about Hermione and now you – the possibilities are so much bigger, and there’s so much to learn.”

Rhiannon grinned at that, and Evelyn’s own smile brightened as she shook her head fondly. Xenophilius bounced in his seat, he had set the package aside on a table and leaned forward on his knees. “It is, isn’t it?” he replied eagerly. Rhiannon stuck her tongue out at him, and he cackled. “In all seriousness, it’s just something to learn about and be careful of, we had some incidents before we figured things out. There’s not a good deal of research on werewolves in our world either. But I do have some books on magical biology I could lend you if you like.”

With that, the two of them were lost to chattering about the scientific intricacies of the magical world with Rhiannon and Luna occasionally filling in snippets. Evelyn lost interest and drew the two almost-teenagers away to talk about school instead. How were they doing, was Rhiannon alright with Dumbledore still there. She was incredibly concerned to hear that Luna was sleeping on the couch and her mouth pressed into a thin line to hear about the other attacks and Gilderoy Lockhart’s dangerous ineptitude.

“That’s it, then. I’m going to take this up with the school.” Evelyn said firmly, as the three of them returned to the others. When her husband frowned at her she shook her head. “Dan, it’s not just our Hermione and their Dudley. There’s been five attacks, including the one on the cat – and a sick thing that was too, left for children to find.”

She reached out and squeezed Rhiannon’s hand gently. “We’ll get this over with. It seems they’re all dithering, and what they need is someone with no magic and a bit of sense to push them in the right direction. I saw it when you were hurt, it’s even more obvious now.” she reassured them. Danjuma grinned and shook his own head, amused and a little exasperated in turn, though anyone could see the love of his wife and her strength written plain on his face.

“Impending terror for the magical community aside,” he said with a teasing smile as he fished a package out from under his chair, “we have a present for you. I’m afraid there’s nothing for you, Xenophilius and Luna – it was meant to be a new-year’s gift for Rhiannon and Dudley but Hermione suggested getting durability enchantments put on them and that took some time to do.” he added, and handed the package to Rhiannon. “Go on, open it.”

Rhiannon turned it over in her hands. It was light and squishy, wrapped in pink-and-red plaid printed paper and done up with a dark green ribbon – leftover Christmas gear indeed. Inside were several necklaces of waxed cord, with pendants made out of what felt like silicone, round and wider at the bottoms than at the top where they were knotted onto the cords. They were brightly coloured, three yellow and three red – Rhiannon giggled at that, Hermione’s parents had chosen House colours. There were also a pair of bracelets in a similar material with buttons that could be flipped in and out, that closed with a buckle like a watch strap. These were black, and the buttons on one were red and on the other yellow. Finally, wrapped up neatly was a steel ring with small light green crystal studs interspersed evenly across its flat sides. Rhiannon turned it over in her hands curiously, and was delighted to find that it was made up of two pieces, the outer face with the gems could be spun and fiddled with instead of nails or hair.

“We got one for Hermione, too,” Evelyn explained, nodding to the ring in Rhiannon’s hands. “We’d have got one for Dudley but he doesn’t wreck his nails like you two do, so we hoped the bracelets would be enough. Do you like it?”

Rhiannon beamed at them both, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes yes yes!” she exclaimed, slipping the ring onto the index finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly, and she fiddled with it happily. “And the – everything else?” she asked, holding up one of the buttoned bracelets.

Danjuma grinned at this too. “That bit of bleedthrough we did know about – Hermione told us back at the start of the year after you fetched up in the hospital wing, you were short of things to chew and kept chewing the hospital furniture as I recall it.” he teased her.

Rhiannon blushed, and all four of her companions laughed. “Hagrid brought us antlers,” she replied, thinking back on that month. “And- and Madam Pomfrey let me chew them inside.”

Xenophilius and Luna both snorted with laughter, while Hermione’s parents looked a little horrified. “They’re good!” Rhiannon protested, laughing herself. “But I – I can definitely see why I can’t chew them inside normally – it’s been a bit hard to put that bit of Nyx back inside. So – thankyou. Really. And I know Dudley’ll love it too, he doesn’t put the wolf-brain away so much – the yellow stuff’s his, isn’t it?” she added.

Evelyn nodded, smiling. “We got it in house colours, to make you feel more a part of Hogwarts I suppose. And so that you could pass it off as house pride if you didn’t feel like explaining what it was.” she replied.

Rhiannon got up from her chair and threw herself on Evelyn for a messy hug, half-crying. She’d never had presents that were so specifically designed for her needs – the needs that others thought she needed to just get over. Hermione’s mother stroked her hair, laughing and rocking her gently. When Rhiannon pried herself away they all realised it was growing dark outside, and got up to start getting dinner ready. Rhiannon smiled as she helped Danjuma in the kitchen, smiled as she bumped into Luna setting the table, even laughed at Xenophilius’ bumbling questions about Danjuma’s profession of dentistry. The absence of Hermione hung over them all but just as it had done for Xenophilius and Luna at Christmas, the simple comfort of being with others helped ease it, remind them that they’d get through and, in the case of the Ndiaye-Grangers, that their daughter would get well again.

After dinner, Xenophilius bustled about helping clean up and getting ready to leave, while Rhiannon and Luna curled up in armchairs discussing the intricacies of magical science, particularly potioneering and historical craft links, with Hermione’s father with the raggedy ‘Crookshanks’ to oversee them. Rather than disturb them, Evelyn just smiled and shook her head. “Just stay the night, Xenophilius – we’ve spare beds, you can have the guest room if they’re all right on the couches.” she suggested. Rhiannon and Luna both nodded eagerly, and returned to their conversation. They lost track of time until Danjuma himself started to yawn, and Evelyn brought blankets and pillows from a cupboard for them. The adults slipped away to bed, leaving Rhiannon and Luna curled up on couches to talk and gradually fall asleep.

Rhiannon shifted on the couch, with Crookshanks curled up on her legs. “I – I know, you don’t really do Easter but... this was nice,” she murmured, seeing Luna’s dozing shape in the low light of the unlit living room. “I think – I, I needed the reminder that she’s going to be okay. And th-h-h-h-h-that other people are looking after her too. They even look out for Dudley.”

Luna’s teeth gleamed in the low light as he smiled, and his head bobbed as he nodded. “They’re good people. I like them. And I like it here. It’s sort of empty-feeling without Hermione, but... it’s a good place, with kind energy. They’ve worked hard to make that. It feels safe.” she agreed, shifting on the couch.

Rhiannon smiled at that, and shifted Crookshanks to a more comfortable position on her chest as she turned over. Slowly, surrounded by the house that felt like Hermione and the first safety she’d ever found, she drifted off to sleep, Luna’s peaceful wishes of good night drifting into her dreams.