Hogwarts Reimagined

Content warning for outing, trauma, transphobia, transmisogyny, panic attack, overwhelming crowd. and then further content warning for mention and description of an abused animal seen earlier in the fic.

Everything was very, very quiet. Dimly Rhiannon was aware that the crowd surged in the stands, but with those words she was done for and she numbly turned a circle, taking in the roaring crowd she couldn’t hear, her panic rising. Her vision stayed traitorously clear even as her palms sweated on her broomstick, causing her to slip and stagger. That broke the horrified trance and she whirled around again, feverishly seeking the passageway below the stands. She bolted like a frightened fawn, the gloating elaboration of the commentator fading in and out of her awareness as if chasing her from the pitch.

Below the stands, the team room was quiet – but not safe, not safe, she abandoned her broomstick and snatched at her backpack left on a bench before dashing from the room, the thud of her feet thudding through her protesting knees as they carried her away from the pitch, across a back field, the Forbidden Forest hulking in the distance as she pelted downhill towards – well, she wasn’t sure where. Away. Anywhere. And she might have got there, had she not found a rabbit hole with her foot, sending her careening to the ground again.

This time Rhiannon stayed down, the fall breaking through her unreasoning panic as she curled in on herself, sobbing with fear and rage and hurt. Finally, worn down, the familiar sparks glimmered in the sliver of vision blurred by tears. She might have stayed there for some time, had she been allowed. But this time she wasn’t alone. Had she been calmer, she might have remembered Oliver Wood’s before they took flight – “We’re a team. We’ve got eachother’s backs, whether we’ve been flying together three years or three weeks.” Were she calmer, she might have remembered and questioned whether that had really included her. But as it was, the sparking haze of her teary vision was swallowed up by red and gold, and someone – several someones – knelt on the ground around her. A hand was on her shoulder and Rhiannon flinched away, shrinking into a fetal huddle. She blundered into someone’s chest, her temple met boiled leather padding and she was encircled in a hug and helped into a sitting position, still supported on all sides.

Dimly, she realised – red. Gryffindor red. And the boiled leather in her face, Beater padding. Rhiannon pushed her way out of the hug, staring around her at five familiar faces, their expressions sympathetic.

“Y-y-ou-you,” she tried to speak, her words catching in a torrential flood of stammer tangle. Rhi coughed, rubbed at her eyes and tried again, breathing still coming a little too fast. “Y-you’re n-no-not, not angry?” she asked, a sob breaking the end of her words. She couldn’t quite fathom it – her dormmates she understood, they were her own age and she’d had Hermione – where was Hermione, she’d run off alone, she wasn’t allowed to-

A lower voice than her own interrupted her racing self-chastisement. “Angry? Oh, you bet. Oliver would be here but last I saw he had Aaron fucking Prentiss in a headlock,” Angelina Johnson replied. That was the name – she’d been unable to identify the commentator by sight, that was his name. Another gasping sob escaped her trembling lips, and someone else drew her into another hug. “Angry at you, though? Never.” Katie – it was Katie who held Rhiannon – added, her voice grim. “We might need to get Bryn to fill in as Keeper next week though, Wood’ll be in the shit by now,” she finished.

Rhi shook her head again, and gradually the close huddle relaxed some. Awkwardly, Rhi scooted across the ground to sit between the Weasley twins, uncomfortable in the middle of the rough circle. One of the twins ruffled her hair, the other squished her into a sideways hug for a brief moment. “We already knew. Why do you think we called you our Potter? We’re no geniuses-” at this his brother snickered and Fred, she guessed, the twins had slight differences in their inflections, swatted George before continuing “-but it didn’t take one to see you flinch every time someone said your name. Wasn’t any our business until Prentiss made it everyone’s business.”

At mention of the Slytherin seventh-year, Rhiannon shuddered and drew her knees up to her chest, resting her head between them as she tried to push her breathing into some sort of consistent rhythm. “H-he knew, I could hear it right from when I bounced that Bludger,” she whispered. Someone – Alicia? - cracked their knuckles. “We figured. He carried right on at the end with a whole story” – at this, Katie glared at Alicia who was speaking – “What? She’ll just stress if she’s wandering around the school with half a story and rumours in every hallway. Aside from Wood, last I saw McGonagall was spittin’ fire – Prentiss and whoever dobbed you in are in deep shit too,” Alicia finished, returning Katie’s glare.

They went back and forth for a little while before Angelina, ever practical, broke through to address Rhiannon. “Not to state the obvious, but the cat – or the Seeker – ‘s out the bag. And that’s got to suck. But you don’t have to keep pretending to be Harry Potter anymore. We’d like to have the real you on our team.” she said, reaching a gloved hand across the little circle to hold one of Rhiannon’s for a moment. Rhi only shook her head, still hugging her knees. They knew – if Fred was to be believed, they’d known from the start – and they didn’t care. Or rather, they cared about her, not the scandal her identity was made out to be, enough to risk school trouble for her.

Decisively, Rhi took a deep breath and relaxed, shifting into a cross-legged position to ease her complaining knees. She fished in her backpack, fresh tears streaming down her overwhelmed face. She couldn’t speak through them so she found the increasingly battered notepad and flipped to the cardboard back – the only unlined part of it. In a messy, overlarge script Rhiannon printed her own name – concentrating on the shapes of the letters settled her anxiety somewhat.

RHIANNON. RHIANNON HESTIA POTTER.

A shy smile spread across her face like sunlight through stormclouds, her eyes still streaming with tears that fogged up her by-now-filthy glasses “I’m Rhiannon!” she repeated out loud, a real grin spreading across her face as she tilted it back to catch the faint warmth of the afternoon sunlight and let the tears run down her neck and into her ears, a helpless laugh drawn out of her as she squished herself with her own arms and then joyfully flapped them around her face, still crying amid the laughter. Her teammates joined her, George cackling as she accidentally slapped him when he attempted to hug her again.

It was like this, laughing and overwhelmed and so essentially joyous that Hermione, Neville and Rhiannon’s other friends of her own age found her. They’d struggled to get free of the rest of the crowd and had been worried for Rhiannon, so the sight eased them somewhat and it was almost shyly that they joined Rhi and the Quidditch team in their little circle on the ground. That broke the moment, and Rhiannon turned an embarrassed gaze on her friends, dashing aside her tears and coughing to clear her throat. “I-I’m okay. Really. I mean I’m no-not, not completely but... I’m safe.” she reassured them, catching a worried Neville’s hand and squeezing her, shaking her head. Ok, she spelled against the pulse point of his wrist. All ok. He returned her smile as she released his hand, and Rhi was reassured as he quietly drew one hand into a fist and released his fingers with a sort of springing motion, a lopsided grin growing on his face. That was Neville’s version of happy hands. A glance confirmed Rhi’s hunch, yes indeed Hermione was making ‘piano hands’ knuckles, a sort of ripple in which she curled first her pinky finger into her hand and then the rest in order, then released them again beginning with the smallest. A shared glance was permission, and Hermione seized Rhiannon from behind in a clumsy bear-hug, humming happily – she tried to squish it, but Hermione’s emotions were always big and expressionate none more so than the good ones, and Rhiannon knew her first friend felt all stuck inside if she couldn’t let them out. Laughing and sniffing away the last of her tears, Rhi pushed Hermione off her at last and stood, dusting the grass from the back of her sports’ tunic as she did so.

“Want to go see Hagrid,” she explained at the questioning glances she was cast. The gentle groundskeeper had been the first person Rhi had come out to, so to speak, and she wanted to share all the good she was feeling with him – it felt as if it would all run out if she didn’t share it. In a rustle of motion, the rest of her year-group friends stood and joined her; surrounded, Rhi had never felt safer. Granted that was a low bar, but the point still stood. As ever, her room-mates were closest save for the ever-absent Lavender Brown – they still didn’t get on; Ron and Neville, and then her friends outside Gryffindor – Morag, Emilia and Padma and... wait. There was a little more than just her usual friends here. Gryffindor boys she barely knew – Dean, Eric and Aeden - Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle and Ishak Levin – Ravenclaw boys she’d barely said two words to. Pretty much most of Hufflepuff’s first year aside from one or two of the boys. And, shamefaced, three Slytherin girls – two, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were usually friendly with Rhiannon but she had to mentally scramble for the name of the third – Heather Pace. It was one of the Hufflepuffs who spoke up, sharing awkward glances with the rest of the wider group. “We um... we wanted to come support you,” she explained, pushing untidy brown hair out of her eyes – Susan Bones, that was it. “They were saying horrible things and we um... we wanted to, I guess, show which side we were on. You’re the Girl Who Lived to us and we’ve got your back.” one of the Ravenclaw boys added.

A solid three quarters or more of the first year was represented, and a lump rose in Rhiannon’s throat even as she quailed under the pressure. She shook her head, looking to Hermione for help – the crowd was too big, she hadn’t realised how big it was, they’d all seen her being a freak, she couldn’t, she wanted to tell them she was happy but please to go away. But Hermione too was threatened by the pressure and she shrank against Rhiannon’s side, shaking her head. It was Ron who stepped up. “Okay, support, great. We love to see it. But Rhi doesn’t like crowds, hell you saw that pretty bloody clearly just a bit ago. So if you could all just mosey off for the minute. I get you want to take a stand and all but please don’t put my friend in the middle of it – she’s a person, not a symbol.” he stated firmly, flapping his hands at the throng of students in a shooing motion. Some protested and he scowled at them, shaking his head. “Do you wanna support Rhiannon or make a point? We appreciate it, but Rhi won’t be able to appreciate it if you stress her out so please bugger off before you turn into another stress factor. Thanks. Goodbye.”

His words were reinforced by his brothers, who raised their Beaters’ clubs threateningly, and eventually Rhiannon was left with just her team-mates, and her Gryffindor friends. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes tiredly, making a face at the dry crusty crackly feeling on her face. “Thanks,” she offered simply. The rest of the Quidditch team stood, shaking themselves and rubbing stiffness from their limbs. “We’ll show you off to Hagrid’s, chase off any other would-be well-wishers,” Katie explained as the team formed a loose semicircle around Rhiannon and her smaller friend-group, making a sort of escort for them the rest of the way to Hagrid’s garden.

The escort proved unnecessary, but Rhiannon guessed it was a point of honour to her team-mates and humoured them. She drew the line at actually accompanying her to see Hagrid. “He’s known for months I’ll be fine, honestly George,” she said. “Let me breathe you’re a bunch of mother hens, honestly,” she chastised him. Immediately she was embarrassed by the small outburst, to the amusement of the five older students. “Rhi Potter’s got some fire after all – not that anyone should o’ doubted, even Cho underestimated that!” Fred teased her, dancing out of reach as Faye jokingly attempted to hit him with her backpack in retaliation. But he got the message, and the five turned to leave. “Best we go see where Wood fetched up,” Angelina suggested. They all laughed at that, and Fred and George turned back to their brother. “Oi, Ronnie-boy,” George said, prodding him in the chest with his wand. “You take care of our girl or you’ve us to deal with.” he warned. Ron scowled and opened his mouth to protest, Fred darted forwards and mussed his hair up and with that, they ran off laughing. The three girls followed at a more sedate pace with some shared rolling of eyes, and finally Rhiannon was left in peace.

Uncertainly, Rhiannon and her friends made their way around the side of Hagrid’s house to where Rhi could see the edge of a garden, some muffled noise suggesting that might be where they’d find Hagrid. They were greeted by excited barking and Rhiannon went stiff and shrank back into Neville, but she knew Fang was there – it wasn’t so bad this time. Fang’s excitement alerted Hagrid to their presence and a smile spread across the big man’s craggy face even as he restrained the dog. “Ah, settle ya fuzzy mutt, you’ve met her before and don’t you remember how that went?” he reminded the dog, ruffling his ears. Rhiannon ran forward and hugged Hagrid, still a little overwhelmed. His coat was scratchy and smelled like the outdoors, dirt and dogs and horses and strange plants she couldn’t name. She drew back and sneezed, then wiped her face, embarrassed. “T-these are my other friends, Neville and Parvati and Faye and Ron. You know Hermione. I, um. I had a weird day. Kind of a bad day. Kind of a good day. Kind of a lot all at once you look busy I’m sorry – can we help at all? I don’t know anything about gardening but I can try.”

Hagrid ruffled her hair, by now long escaped from its’ ponytail. “Good thing you picked harvest season to learn, then. I’m right about done with picking it all so now we turn it over – grab a fork o’er there, pick a spot, you want t’ knock down any o’ the stalks still standing and turn it all into the dirt. Good thing I got spares from the Herbology kids.” he explained cheerfully, taking it in stride. He gestured to where a collection of tall garden forks leaned against the wall, and soon the Gryffindors were set to work. Rhiannon ended up over by Hagrid, and she relayed the events of the day to him – to his disgust, of course. “Insolent wee git. He’ll be in for it when Minnie gets him, him and whoever he got it from,” he said with an uncharacteristically vicious, satisfied edge to his tone. His words echoed what Rhiannon’s Quidditch friends had said of the matter, and now that she was in a better headspace Rhi could share his sentiment – though she did find his reference to the stern Professor McGonagall as ‘Minnie’ to be hilarious. Hagrid patted her shoulder, almost knocking her to the ground. “Well, it’s out now, for better or worse. I’m glad you’ve good mates on your side even if the rest of your year are a bit clumsy ‘bout it. Better clumsy than malicious.” he sympathised awkwardly, kneeling in the dirt so he didn’t tower over the eleven-year-old girl. “Guess you don’t have t’ pretend to be anyone’s Harry Potter. All the ones that might be gits about it are out now too. It’s not gonna be easy but... you’re free.”

Rhiannon nodded slowly, a wry frown creasing her tired face. Hagrid was right of course – it wasn’t going to be easy but having everything all out in the open, it did offer a freedom she hadn’t expected so soon, even if it had taken her choice of how and when and where away from her. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. Harry Potter wasn’t the Girl Who Lived – Harry had never really existed. She was just Rhiannon and – wait. It occurred to her that Hagrid didn’t know. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to tell him.

“I stopped pretending on the inside a while ago,” Rhi admitted shamefaced. “I forgot to tell you it’s all been such a tangle I’m sorry I forgot I- damnit. H-Hermione and me and some of my friends found my real name in a library book. We were doing extra history study and got sort of, side tracked, and we found it and I -” she cut herself off, taking a breath and steadying the racing train of apologies. Nope. Not now. “I’m Rhiannon. My friends have been calling me that for about a month it skipped my mind I’m so- not going there. I’m Rhiannon.”

Hagrid, as ever, was calm and easy-going about her broken and distractible patterns of speech, but as Rhiannon said her name he stopped and covered his mouth with one dirty hand, his black eyes welling with tears – just as Professor McGonagall had. She tilted her head curiously, squeezing the side of Hagrid’s other hand a little awkwardly. “I’m sorry I – I hate to ask but, Professor McGonagall had much the same reaction so it’s obvious it means something to you that I’m missing, i-if you feel comfortable telling me – if you don’t I’m sorry,” Rhi stammered, her words all tangling up in an effort not to cause any offence she might imagine. Hagrid shook his head mutely, taking a moment to settle himself.

“No, I’m sorry lass – you just surprised me. It’s, well, it’s your mum. Rhiannon was her favourite song. She was really into music you know, really – she brought the kind of magic you feel into this old school that thinks fine music is toads croaking along with a fuddy ol’ choir. An’ she sang for us one year, her las’ year at Hogwarts. Flitwick talked her into performing for the graduation ceremony, and that’s what she sang. Lot of Hogwarts wouldn’t believe when she told ‘em it was a Muggle song. So for us that knew her... that’s how we remember her. One of the most, bright I guess, ways, anyway.” Hagrid explained, his voice rough with bitten-back sorrow. Rhiannon felt a lump rise in her throat, and she leaned on her fork as she kept turning over dead stalks and ambitious weed sprouts in silence.

“It’s a sad thing, that memory. But your name isn’t. These-” here Hagrid gestured to his watery eyes – “Aren’t just sad tears. You’re your own person, but sometimes history repeats in ways that catch us old people off guard.”

Rhiannon nodded quietly, she thought she understood. All she knew of her parents was that they died, and that picture she’d left in Gringotts. Hagrid’s story filled in some of those gaps, made them seem like real people instead of voiceless strangers. Rhi didn’t know the song in question – she didn’t know much music at all really, never had a chance to. But maybe it seemed like something she could share with them more than just the blood that seemed to matter so much to some people – the same blood that tied her to the Dursleys, and really didn’t mean much at all to Rhiannon as a result.

Hagrid sniffed, wiping his face and pushing some of his unruly hair out of his eyes and again taking a moment to settle himself, visibly casting around for some other topic of discussion. “Oi, Ron – Weasley, right? How’s your brother Charlie doin’ for himself?” he asked, calling across the garden to the redheaded boy who took to the stalks with his fork as if they’d personally offended him. Ron stopped when Hagrid addressed him, setting the fork against the fence and heading over closer to him and Rhiannon. “Decent. Got a spot with a dragon sanctuary up in Romania rehabilitating rescued ones, they just got a Norwegian Ridgeback in a few weeks ago – he sent me a letter all excited, said you’d know what that means.” he replied. Hagrid’s entire demeanour shifted, and his face split in a grin. “Aw, the bastard, he knows they’re my favourites,” Hagrid groaned enviously. Rhi’s attention was sufficiently caught too, and gradually the other Gryffindors drifted in to rest with them, sensing work was about done for the now-evening.

“We read about them in class – or, we were reading about Hebridean Blacks and I skipped ahead,” Rhi offered. “They’re venomous, right? And they imprint pretty strongly, but people thought they didn’t at all for ages because they’re just really bitey.” Hermione added on. Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. “They just like to rough-house, it’s how they bond with their parents. Lots of magical critters like that, only pretty recently wizards learned any dif’rent about ‘em. Ol’ Kettleburn still got you first years on Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, righ’? Good man, Scamander, he’s responsible for changing a lot o’ minds about this stuff. Before him people thought you couldn’t tame a Cerberos you know – the silly beggars, Fluffy’d teach ‘em different. Had a few get all spooked and he just wanted to lick ‘em.”

Cerberos – Cerberen. A magical species named for the legendary Greek monster of the same name. A giant – three, headed, dog.

Rhiannon felt sick at the realisation. “You had a Cerberos?” she asked, wanting to give Hagrid the benefit of the doubt – from what she knew of the man, he’d not leave an animal like that. Hagrid nodded enthusiastically, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Named ‘im Ceri, but Fluffy usually sticks. He’s about two now – playful, and whip-smart too – knows exac’ly who’s friends and who’s to stay out. Lent ‘im to Dumbledore for uh... yeah, lent ‘im.”
Rhiannon breathed a sigh of relief, soon overtaken by a rising sick rage again. “I think we met Fluffy. Third floor corridor, steel-bound heavy door. Hagrid – it stank. You know dogs freak me out, even Fang -” here she gestured at the boarhound, who lay on his back obligingly wiggling from side to side - “-I was too upset at the time to really lose it like I did with Fang that first time, Hagrid, he’s sick. He’s locked in a room smaller than our dorm. Window the size of my schoolbooks. He’s chained to the floor, as if he could go anywhere, he –“ Rhiannon ran out of words, choking, bile rising in her throat. Hagrid looked – she couldn’t describe it. Ashen-faced, the giant man stood and staggered away from them, weak-kneed. From around the side of his cabin, they could hear the unmistakeable sound of retching, and Rhiannon shared a miserable glance with her friends. Ron, Hermione and Faye had met Fluffy too, and Parvati and Neville had heard the story albeit in scarce detail, it had sickened the others too much to recount it.

Hagrid returned, still pale and ill-looking, all good humour gone as he knotted his hands together. “Gotta, gotta go see him. Gotta get him out.” he muttered, sinking to his knees in the dirt. He sat down then, cross-legged, his head in his hands. Rhiannon and her friends huddled around in the freshly-turned dirt. “We want to help,” Hermione added shakily. “That was our first day of class. I can’t believe we forgot about it we just – didn’t know who to ask I guess. He must be worse by now if he’s even – I mean, he must be, if he’s guarding something for Professor Dumbledore.”

Hagrid laughed mirthlessly. “That’s the thing about Cerberen. Very hard, near impossible, to get dead. They can guard something for centuries with very little sustenance. They’re survivors. So there’s a pretty big gap between what people know they can survive on, and what they need to live. Always thought Dumbledore was better’n that... maybe he doesn’t know.” he trailed off, face turning dark. Privately, Rhiannon thought it very likely Dumbledore was as callous with the magical dog’s needs as he had been with her own – but it didn’t seem the right time to say so. Seemed like adding insult to injury.

“We do-don’t have Astronomy on Monday ni-ghts. Best do it tomorrow – we can stay up studying, we won’t be missed,” Rhi suggested haltingly, speaking slowly to attempt to bypass the stutter that always worsened in strong emotions. Faye and Ron groaned, but the both of them agreed. “Me and Neville will cover for you,” Parvati suggested. Neville shot her a panicked glance, Rhiannon shook her head. You can do this. Don’t even have to talk, she mouthed to Neville. “Can try,” he mumbled by way of agreement. Parvati smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, you just have to be there. Don’t have to say anything – I know you hate the dark.” she reassured him.

Ron shook his head numbly. “I’ll write Charlie. Dragon sanctuary occasionally takes on other cases, I’m sure he’ll make an exception – damnit, I should have thought of him sooner, I’m sorry Hagrid.” he muttered, an air of defeat hanging over the whole group. Rhiannon bit her lip, worrying at the chapped skin with her teeth. “W-we’ll want to take him out through the lower east corridor. Herbo-bology sss-side. Faye, can you handle Peeves? Ask Fred and George if you need but if the ‘geist catches us w-we’re bust.” she suggested, to a nod from Faye. And with that, they had a rough plan. Rhiannon then turned back to Hagrid. “We’ll get him out, Hagrid.” she murmured, though she still didn’t meet the gentle man’s gaze. Who were they to plan something like this – a gamekeeper and six kids? They had to try.

Anxiously, Rhi cast her eyes around for something more, something she might have missed - but they were losing the light, the last of the sun’s rays disappearing behind the forbidding mass of the Forest. Hagrid followed her gaze and frowned, still preoccupied by worry and what looked concerningly to Rhiannon like a touch of desperate panic. “S’late. I’ll walk the lot of you’s back to the castle, else you’ll be in trouble again – tell Filch you was helping me. And Rhiannon – thankyou.” he said finally. Rhiannon nodded, mouth twisting sadly. “We’ll get him out. Tomorrow. I’m just sorry we didn’t figure it out sooner.” she finished weakly, to a shake of Hagrid’s shaggy head. “We’ll get him out. Off with the lot of you.” he finished firmly, shooing them away ahead of him out of the garden and off up the rambling path back to the castle.