Hogwarts Reimagined

Content warning: Monstrous werewolves, panic attack, blood, injury, violence. Then grief, depersonalisation and meltdown.

Together, Rhiannon and Dudley made a mad dash for the township on the edge of the great forest park, the knowledge of what pursued them lending wings to their heels.
But no ordinary person had a hope of outrunning a werewolf, let alone a pack whose attention they had drawn – and certainly not two malnourished preteens.

At first it looked as if they might make it. The howls were distant and the children comparatively small – they could have escaped notice. But it was their decision to run that betrayed them. As soon as they did, the wolves gave chase and the forest closed in around Rhiannon as she ran. Around her she began to see flashes of pale fur in the scraps of moonlight that filtered through the trees, gleaming eyes too close to comfort.

Rhiannon skidded to a halt as a tree seemed to come out of nowhere in the dark and Dudley collided with her, sending her sprawling across the tree’s exposed roots. She almost dropped her wand and was winded, but staggered back upright again and cast around desperately for something, anything – but it was too late.

She gripped her wand tightly, her back pressed against Dudley’s as the werewolves emerged from the trees. They were gangly, sick-looking creatures – underfed and each with a feral gleam in their bulging eyes. Rhiannon had expected werewolves to look more like, well, wolves; but these were more like a sick perversion of wolves that would haunt anyone’s nightmares.

“S-s-ssssss-sta-stay back!” Rhiannon cried desperately. One of them lunged, snapping and slavering and she flinched away with a cry, but the werewolf stopped short and retreated, rearing up on its’ hind legs before falling back into a quadrupedal stance. A strange sound rose from the others, twisted and hollow and at first unrecognisable.
Laughter, mangled by the changed vocal cords, but the effect was all the more chilling for it. Many werewolves were little more than animals at a full moon but these retained some of their human characteristics – enough that they didn’t simply kill them and be done. They toyed with Rhiannon and Dudley pitilessly, neither of them being able to do a thing to break the cycle.

Finally, one of the werewolves lost patience with the game and lunged for them in earnest. Its’ teeth flashed and Rhiannon’s face was flecked with spittle by its’ passage. Dudley’s scream rang in her ears and suddenly there was empty air at her back where he had. She whirled around, her wand grasped in white-knuckled fingers, to see the beast standing over Dudley. His grey shirt was soaked with blood, the copper stink of it flooded her senses and he lay still - too still, she couldn’t think she couldn’t think – no. No, she had to. This was her fault. And she was the only one of them armed.

“MELOFORS!” shrieked Rhiannon – the first spell that came to mind. Immediately the werewolf’s head was encased by an enormous green-skinned pumpkin. Rhi laughed helplessly, the sight so inappropriately funny in the circumstances. Her eyes streamed with tears and she wiped them away, shifting her stance so that she stood between the remaining werewolves and her fallen cousin as the now pumpkin-headed werewolf staggered back, its’ whines and growls muffled by the conjured pumpkin.

The remaining werewolves shared a glance and growled, their eyes fixed on her now as she stood alone against them. Rhiannon wracked her brain desperately for another spell as they advanced – nothing, nothing, nothing useful – the spells that might help her most were impossible to say under pressure.

Another of the werewolves launched itself at Rhiannon, breaking the impasse. She had no time to think what to do – only act. “Flipendo!” she cried, but the spell was ineffective. The werewolf shrugged it off and kept coming and Rhiannon scrambled backwards desperately searching for a plan B until she bailed up against Dudley lying on the ground. With nowhere to go, she again pulled out the first spell that came to mind. “Mucus ad nauseam!”

Rhiannon’s throat was raw and her high voice broke in the mild summer night air. The werewolf’s inexorable assault slowed and it staggered, spluttering and snarling as its’ nose and mouth clogged with snot by the effects of Rhiannon’s desperate curse. It backed off, hacking and still snarling viciously, but it was effectively decommissioned too.

The others lost their tolerance for this one-at-a-time testing the waters approach and closed in, thin coats bristling and jaws gaping menacingly. Rhi had nowhere to run and she looked back and forth frantically, searching for an exit, finding nothing. She was out of time. “F-f-f-fffff, fucking FLAGRATE!” she stammered, swore and finally bellowed. She screwed her eyes closed, sure her spell would fail but instead it went wide. Instead of the short strike on two of the approaching werewolves that she had planned, her misfiring spell spread and the flagrant sparks caught in the summer-dry leaf litter.

The werewolves backed off yelping and they circled, just beyond the ring of flames, their eyes glinting dangerously in the orange light. “No, no, no – shit,” Rhiannon muttered, whirling around in a panicked circle. “Ventus!” she cast desperately, then immediately realised her mistake as the Wind Charm fanned the sullen, smouldering flames into a blaze.

All at once the forest was aflame. The misdirected spell caught in the summer-dry leaf litter and spread under Ventus’ force, fanning out so that Rhiannon was surrounded. Trapped.
The werewolves were kept at bay for the moment and Rhiannon spun around and knelt to check Dudley. A wave of relief washed over her to find him breathing albeit shallowly, but he was still unconscious and losing blood. Rhiannon slung his arm over her thin shoulders and staggered to her feet. She managed only a few unsteady steps before falling without having moved Dudley at all, and this time her wand was thrown from her hands as she fell spread-eagled in the dry leaves and the hard tree-roots. Rhi coughed and pulled the top of her t-shirt up over her mouth and nose but it was no use. She dragged herself to her feet again and stumbled back to the tree beside Dudley, pressing back against it as if it might lift her up to safety.

There were no tree-spirits on her side that night, only flames and the low howls of the circling wolves. Even they fell quiet and Rhiannon flattened herself to the tree’s rough trunk, waiting for a trap – she could no longer see their eyes. Frantically she scanned forest for them but she was fireblind and choked by smoke, she could see nothing, hear nothing but the hungry crackle of the fire as it spread further out.

Rhiannon turned in place, placing her feet carefully among the tree roots, scanning her surroundings for the pack as she still heard them even outside the range of her vision.
She turned just in time for her eyes to meet with those of the werewolf who bore down on her, jaws agape. Its mangy coat was streaked with remnants of Rhiannon’s conjured pumpkin and its’ bloodied paws caught her square in the shoulders as she turned to face it. Rhiannon had no chance to escape, no sudden burst of magic to save her and she fell, choking on her own screams as the werewolf closed its’ jaws around the left side of her collarbone and shoulder.

Insensate with pain and sobbing, Rhiannon clawed and pummeled at the creature on top of her with her free hand, kicking at it – anything to make the pain stop. She had lost the concept of time and it seemed like ages she was trapped there. Eventually, as the werewolf let go and drew back for a final blow, Rhiannon went limp and accepted her fate.

And just as she did so, the fire-torn night was sundered by a chorus of half-familiar cracks and flashing lights. Someone bellowed, and the werewolf was thrown from atop Rhiannon. She struggled feebly and then someone was holding her, lifting up her head and lifting a bottle to her lips. Rhiannon drank more by instinct than any particular will to live and then she was slipping, the familiar arms of unconsciousness open for her and welcoming as unknown people crowded about and their voices bled together into a senseless hum until all was silent and she knew no more.

______________________________________________________

Rhiannon awoke slowly, the first sense returned to her was that of pain. She moaned quietly and rolled over, curling in on herself. While nothing compared to the pain of before, her whole body was wracked with a dull ache that spread from the injury to her collarbone. Someone spoke quietly nearby, and slowly Rhiannon forced herself into wakefulness to face them, dragging herself into a sort of hunched reclining position on her right side. The voices stilled and Rhiannon rubbed her eyes awkwardly with her slightly-squished right hand and fumbled for her glasses – thankfully tucked under her pillow - before she opened them to stare wordlessly at her surroundings.

As one might expect, her vision was grainy and sparkled at the edges. Rhiannon growled softly and scrubbed at her eyes again, then stubbornly pushed herself upright so she sat with her back to the wall facing the other inhabitants of the room directly. Her eyes roved over them and she noted them down silently, making note of each. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. A thin older man with straggly white-blond hair, curious brown eyes and wire-framed spectacles – no one she recognised. No Dudley. But her heart swelled with hope as she took in the final person in the room – Hermione’s mother, Doctor Evelyn Ndiaye-Granger.

The four adults looked back at her, their faces oddly solemn. They exchanged furtive glances amongst themselves, nobody willing to break the silence. Rhiannon’s stomach growled and she clutched it, wincing and leaning back as she sparked pain in her left side that brought a wave of dizziness with it. The dizziness was only amplified by her hunger and she grimaced.

“C-c-can- can I get s-s-something to eat?” she stammered. The adults stared at her and then laughed. Rhiannon felt relief wash over the whole room, the ice now broken.
The unfamiliar man stood and strode to the closed door. He poked his head out it and called down the hallway. “Oi! Luna, grab some cereal or something from one of the nurses, yeah?” he called out, before returning to his chair and taking a book from under it, which he began to read. Rhiannon cocked her head and listened as someone moved around somewhere further in the unfamiliar building and then their light, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway, drawing nearer until they reached the door.

A thin young person - Rhiannon couldn’t guess if they were a boy or a girl and decided it was probably none of her business – entered the room. They were taller than their light footsteps had suggested, certainly taller than Rhiannon and she guessed them to be either her own age or close to either side. Their hair was long and pale blonde somewhat like the unfamiliar bespectacled man’s, braided messily and slung over one shoulder. They wore denim shorts and a cheerful yellow t-shirt with illegible white writing on it, and they were barefoot. In one hand they held a book with one finger acting as a place-keeper, in the other a chipped bowl that presumably contained cereal.

The newcomer, presumably Luna, peered at Rhiannon from behind blue-lensed glasses. They crossed the room quickly and offered the cereal to Rhiannon wordlessly, then sat down on the foot of Rhiannon’s bed and went back to reading. Rhi stared at the cereal, then up at the preoccupied stranger. The bespectacled man coughed and Luna looked up, blinking. Then they noticed their mistake and hurriedly extracted a slightly bent spoon from their pocket, flushing lightly as they passed it to Rhiannon. “Sorry,” they apologised briefly. “Good book. You know.”

Rhiannon did indeed know, and she smiled for the briefest of seconds before refocusing on the cereal. She sniffed at it and scowled – chocolate, but it was an odd shape being soggy squares instead of the rice puffs she was more familiar with. Still, she was too hungry to complain and despite the less-than-ideal texture managed to shovel it down quickly.

When Rhi finished eating she set the bowl on the floor, losing grip and dropping it the last forty centimetres. It cracked and sat there on the floor, rocking obliviously while Rhiannon herself flinched and expected to be scolded.

No such scolding was forthcoming. The adults’ quiet conversation halted and the blond man laughed, shaking his head and waving away Rhiannon’s stammered apology. “Don’t worry – broke one’ve their mugs this morning myself. We’ll mend it later no issue – just you sit tight,” he reassured her. Rhiannon hung her head and wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Hermione’s mother got up and pulled her chair over closer to Rhiannon’s bedside while Madam Pomfrey left the room, hastily apologising and citing a need to check on Dudley. Rhiannon was relieved to hear he was alright – and that they’d not been separated. She stewed over those thoughts for a while until Evelyn cleared her throat and Rhiannon looked up her.

Startled, she realised the composed, dignified woman was crying and she stared for a moment, unsure what she was supposed to say. Evelyn opened her arms as if to hug Rhiannon then clearly thought better of it as Rhi went stiff. “We’re all so sorry, Rhiannon.” said Evelyn, her voice breaking. Her hands twitched, and Rhiannon reached out and took one with her good hand.

At a nod from Professor McGonagall, Luna got up and left the room. Their father – he had to be their father – closed his book and dusted his hands off on his pants, looking around awkwardly before he too excused himself. The Professor took their place on the end of the bed, stiff and weary-looking. Evelyn rubbed comforting circles on the back of Rhiannon’s hand and Rhi shook her head quietly – she doesn’t know what to say to them, she didn’t have words for how much hurt there was.

Minerva coughed and wiped at her eyes. She exchanged a glance with Hermione’s mother, then took a deep breath and looked over at Rhiannon.
“Evelyn’s right, lass. There aren’t words – none, for how badly I let you down. You were reckless with the Stone but I should have paid it greater heed. I cannot express how incredibly sorry I am. Albus went over my head – I had to go to the Ministry to clear matters up with them, and I didn’t – I didn’t return to Hogwarts until a few days after he had already sent you away and the students were all leaving and -” she trailed off, her usual stern manner crumbling into sobs. It took her a moment to compose herself and she dashed tears from her reddened eyes before continuing.

“I went looking back to the Ministry for answers. Young Miss Ndiaye-Granger involved her parents -” here she nodded to Evelyn who smiled weakly, “- and they called the Weasleys for help. Arthur contacted Rubeus and then myself at the Ministry and well... we’re here now. We weren’t fast enough and we are all so incredibly sorry for that – Albus caught wind and he blocked our efforts at the Ministry every step of the way. We’d just gotten around him -”

Minerva abandoned her narrative in favour of a flood of swearing in a mixture of Scots and what Rhiannon guessed to be Gaelic - and more furious tears. Hermione’s mother smiled wearily and took up the story in the professor’s stead.

“By the time we got the Ministry to act, we got word from one Arabella Figg that you were at her house with your cousin – and then another frantic contact saying you’d both run away. We had search parties out looking for you but it was days and we lost your trail after Guildford. Then you set off your Trace – apparently a sort of notification system that alerts the Ministry if an underage magician who’s not in a wizarding household casts magic, incredibly biased if you ask me but... well, I’ll save my complaints because it very likely saved your life here. They figured out by the spells you were casting that you were in trouble and sent in Rubeus and some of the field workers who’d been looking for you. They called for backup when they found you but by then...” Evelyn trailed off, exchanging a worried look with McGonagall.

Rhiannon’s heart sank, and she put a hand to her injury finding most of the shoulder right across to the collarbone bandaged heavily. It ached, but more than that was what it meant. “W-w-werewolf b-b-bi-bi-bite.” she supplied, her tone colourless even with the stammer. Nobody else seemed willing to say it out loud. Hermione’s mother flinched, and Professor McGonagall just looked heartbroken. Neither of them denied it.

All at once, the room felt too small. Rhiannon squeezed her eyes closed, desperately willing the tears not to fall. It was no use. She dragged her knees up and put her head between them, trying to breathe deeply, but all she could feel was that persistent ache beside her collarbone as an inescapable reminder. Rhi began to shake, she was too hot, everyone was too close, she couldn’t breathe.

In a rush Rhi snatched her hand back from Doctor Evelyn and threw off the covers off the narrow bed. She stared down at her bare legs sticking out from her pyjama legs, but in that moment they didn’t feel like her legs. Her body wasn’t hers anymore. She stood and stumbled a few steps, and leaned on one of the abandoned chairs trying desperately to push through the dizziness, refusing to acknowledge the black curtain encroaching on her peripheral vision.

Either Professor McGonagall or Evelyn took hold of Rhiannon’s good shoulder, she didn’t see which, and that was the final straw. Rhi flung off the well-intended but unwelcome grasp and screamed. Not a high, frightened scream – it was lower, angry and broken all at once; and she staggered the next few steps to the door in a blind rush. It wasn’t open enough, she scrabbled at it unseeingly until somehow she managed to push it aside and then she fled from the room.

The door opened on to a long hallway lined with other doors and Rhiannon cast about frantically trying to figure out which was way out, out, it was too dark and the walls were crushing her. So complete was her blind panic that she didn’t notice Hagrid as he entered the hallway and collided with him point blank.

The sudden pain of the collision cut through her panic and she sank to the floor sobbing. Dimly she felt the air move, heard Hagrid’s clothes rustle as he sat down in the hallway; and she didn’t resist as he drew her into a wordless hug.

______________________________________________________

Eventually Rhiannon cried herself dry. She couldn’t tell how long it had been and her first instinct was to apologise to Hagrid, who wouldn’t hear a word of it. He talked to her quietly for a while, telling her all about what he’d been working on. Rhi snuffled quietly and even laughed tearily in places as Hagrid talked about the contract work he’d been doing at Saint Mungo’s – the largest magical hospital in the country. That’s where they were now, he told her.

Rhiannon sniffed and took a moment to put the words together, then asked what he’d been doing working for a hospital – it seemed to her like a pretty big change of pace. Hagrid just beamed, and produced a cat from inside his coat. Or, as Rhiannon recognises its’ mottled blue-and-brown fur, a Kneazle-cat, much bigger now. Hagrid explained that he’d been doing it for years on and off, bringing his more harmless magical animals in to visit the long term residential patients. When he was fired from Hogwarts the Ministry took him on as a contracted worker, and he’d been doing it more formally up until recently.

Rhiannon sobered, and sniffled a bit.
“B-b-b-because of me,” she murmured miserably. Hagrid shook his head and squeezed her gently, careful not to bump her injured shoulder. “No, lass. None o’ this is on you. You panicked and you ran. You’d not o’ had to panic had the old bastard not – no, we’ll not get into that. It’s not your fault – this fu- this one’s on the lot o’ us. I like bringin’ the cats and the odd fairy in t’ St Mungo’s, but don’ think for a moment I’m upset for myself that it’s differen’ now.” Hagrid replied firmly. His tone was kind as ever, but implacable on this one matter and Rhiannon’s protests subsided.

After a moment, she had more questions. “Do- does that mean y-you-you’re staying?” Rhi asked hesitantly. Hagrid sobered, and gently set her aside so he could stand up. “I’m stayin’, but bes’ you come on out an’ hear the rest o’ the deal, yeah?” he replied. At that, Rhiannon immediately began to worry, and it must have showed on her face because Hagrid hastily added on to it. “No – no, ssh, it’s good, and we’ve got a rough plan t’ look after you and yer cousin but we don’t want t’ set it in stone until you’ve talked about it with us all, yeah?”

Hesitantly, Rhiannon nodded and Hagrid helped her to her feet. Holding tightly to his sleeve, she followed him down the hallway and out into an open common room sort of space with a cluster of admittedly-messy couches and armchairs arranged around a sort of three-quarter-circle in the far corner of the room. Rhi immediately made a beeline for where Dudley sat on the end of one small couch and pressed herself in beside him.

Aside from herself, her cousin and Hagrid; Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were also present, along with the bookish blond man from before. Rhiannon wilted under their concern and immediately began to stutter out an apology, but she was shushed gently by Madam Pomfrey.

“Doctor Ndiaye-Granger had to head home for now, but I’m glad to see you’re doing better, Rhiannon,” Profesor McGonagall said by way of greeting as she caught Rhi looking around for the missing presence. Her voice was still a little stuffy, and her eyes were still red around the edges. Rhiannon could only nod mutely and would have shifted into the corner of the couch had it not been occupied by Luna, who was only half paying attention to her book, tapping one foot on the floor. Rhi wasn’t sure whether to interpret the manner as restrained excitement or impatient boredom, and she shifted back to Dudley’s side of the couch without speaking.

Madam Pomfrey smiled wearily, and tapped her fingers against the heavy book that lay in her lap.
“Rhiannon, Dudley. I won’t pretend this is easy. It’s not something the wizarding world likes to talk about, and I don’t know what either of you do or don’t know. However, now isn’t the right time to clear any of that up, and we have the better part of a month before it becomes a pressing concern anyway. For now – there are magical aids for treating this condition. Rhiannon, dear, you may have read about the Wolfsbane Potion -” said Madam Pomfrey, and Rhiannon nodded once in affirmation before the nurse carried on.

“Essentially, it keeps you you, mentally, during the transformation. That has its’ own challenges but I am telling you both this now, because I don’t want you to spend the next month fretting yourselves sick and convinced you will both turn into monsters like those that attacked you. You will not. And I will have to come and go but we -” here Madam Pomfrey paused to indicate McGonagall and Hagrid as well as the bookish man whose name Rhiannon still didn’t know, “- will be involved every step of the way to keep you safe.”

Professor McGonagall nodded as Madam Pomfrey finished speaking, and twisted her hands together in her lap. “That brings us to the other relevant issue,” the professor carried on from Madam Pomfrey’s patient, matter of fact explanation.
“In light of your conditions, it is imperative that the both of you are placed in a safe, supportive environment with magical carers. This is Xenophilius Lovegood and his child, Luna. They volunteered to take you in. They live not far from the Weasleys, a bit outside Exeter. I completely understand if it’s too much change all at once, and St Mungo’s will house you for longer if necessary, however -” she carried on, but she was cut off by, of all of them, Luna.

“I don’t think it would be very nice to be a wolf in here,” they commented quietly, looking up from their book to smile a little shyly at Rhiannon. Luna gasped and their smile brightened. “Wow, your eyes are reflective! That’s really neat. I’ve read a lot about werewolves but I’ve never met one before. I sort of thought you’d be taller than me.” they commented, then chattered on happily. Rhiannon revised her assessment of them as definitely excited, not impatient, and she managed a tiny smile, more taken aback than anything.

The bookish man – Xenophilius Lovegood – smiled broadly, and leaned forward to focus. “Minerva tells me you’re big on books, Rhiannon. We have a library at home, if that’s any sort of enticement.” he teased. Rhiannon flushed, embarrassed that in fact that did make her more open to the idea. Xenophilius sobered, and looked at the other adults before returning his attention to Rhiannon, and Dudley beside her.

“You don’t have to make any big decisions now. We just want to offer you a place to stay, for as long as you need, and the rest will work itself out eventually – there’s no rush.” he continued. Madam Pomfrey tutted, but said nothing. Hagrid raised his hand a little to catch their attention. “One thing t’ add. If you do both decide t’ head home with Xen and Luna here, I’ll tag along. We’ve bin friends for ages, and it’s probably best I’m around to keep an eye on ye both.” he added.

Rhiannon looked around her at the hospital ward common-room. It was dull and green-greyish. The material of the couch was scratchy, and there weren’t enough windows. Slowly she considered the situation. They’d said not to make any big decisions... but she didn’t want to stay here, with no air and nothing familiar. If they were friends with Hagrid... it couldn’t be anything worse.
“I-i-iiiiii – I’d like t-t-to leave. If we can go there. Please.” Rhi stammered, tangling over her words in her haste. Dudley looked at her, and one of his hands crept silently into hers. He squeezed it once for reassurance and Rhiannon’s lip quivered, the strain of the past few hours had worn at her and her composure wavered at the simple gesture that had quickly become familiar.

Professor McGonagall smiled, and her eyes misted over with tears again. She looked to Xenophilius for affirmation and, receiving it, returned her to attention to Rhiannon and Dudley. “Then we’ll take you back to the Rookery tonight, if the healers clear you. Know this – we will not fail you in that way again, neither of you. The Ministry is on our side, there is no way for anyone to remove you from our care without notice as happened before- too many eyes on the issue. And your new – condition – is going to be difficult, it is, but it has one blessing and one only that I can see: as werewolves, neither of you - yes even you though you don’t have any other magic, Dudley - can be removed from magical society until you come of age. There is no way you could be sent away, to the Dursleys or anywhere else, now.”