Hogwarts Reimagined

Content warning: Depiction of an abused and neglected animal. Referenced transphobia, suggested unfair punishment and abuse of authority, implied past trauma.

Rhiannon and her friends stumbled through the motions of Monday on little sleep and less attention. Transfiguration and History of Magic made for an exhausting morning and they fumbled their way through their afternoon classes just as poorly. A concerned Professor Kettleburn excused them from class early, and they had nothing to do but wait as the hours dragged by, the sun remaining stubbornly fixed in the sky. A weary spotted owl reached them early in the evening, Charlie’s reply promising to meet them outside the castle wards that night – luckily he’d been in the country collecting an abandoned Welsh Green clutch, they’d almost missed him.

Rhi swore she’d only rest a moment, curled up on a couch in a secluded corner of the Gryffindor common room with Calypso in her lap, but the next she knew someone was shaking her in the near-darkness. “Rhi, time to go,” someone whispered.

Rhiannon startled awake, knocking into someone’s hard cheekbone with her forehead as she shot upright. “Fuck, Rhi, ow!” they hissed. Ah – Faye. Groaning and rubbing her crusty eyes, Rhiannon gently set a protesting Callie to one side of the couch as she stood and crept downstairs with her friends in tow. She, Ron and Hermione split from Faye when they reached the third floor, the brunette heading off around a side landing – Rhiannon didn’t really question why and just left her to it, assuming she had something planned. A lamplight somewhere above them signaled caretaker Filch’s presence and the three of them darted into the shadows of the out-of-bounds corridor to hide. They hardly dared to breathe as someone’s heavy footsteps sounded on the stone floor, muffled by the thick coating of dust. And now that they knew what to look for, all three could smell the reek wafting from under the iron-bound door. “Rhiannon? Lass?” a rough voice whispered nearby – or as like a whisper as Hagrid could manage. Rhiannon lurched out of hiding, nerves racing – this was a stupid plan, they were going to get caught and Fluffy would be worse off, who did they think they were trying, surely they should give up and go back – no. No. Rhiannon shook her head resolutely, craning her neck to meet Hagrid’s gaze in the low light. “W-We-We’re ready. What do we do?” she replied, tripping over her words as she knotted her hands together anxiously. Hagrid rubbed watery eyes with his hand, leaning against the wall a moment.

“One ‘f you needs to lead me ‘n Fluffy out the castle. Can’t think where I’m going and handle him at once. ‘Nother go ahead every so often – best be you, lass, keep you and Fluff separate for now. Someone else bring up the rear – warn me if you see anything, yeah? In a pinch I can get ‘im out myself but you’ll need to split if it comes to that.” Hagrid said, laying out a brief plan for them. All were anxious to get moving and they decided Hermione would lead, Ron would bring up the rear. Hagrid had brought a stretch of sturdy canvas that he’d use essentially to extend his arms, he assured them he’d be strong enough to carry most of the great dog’s weight, but didn’t want to take the risk of dropping him if he weakened.

The four of them faced the heavy door, Rhiannon sharing a pensive glance with Hermione as they cleared aside to allow Hagrid better access. Rhi wished she knew more than just theory of something like a Courage Charm, even in the scarce light of the corridor she could see the big man swayed on his feet. “For what it’s worth, Fluffy’s worth expulsion,” she said with a half-smile. Hagrid barked a startled laugh, the sound echoed a moment in the still air before it was swept aside by a wave of rank stench as, galvanised into action, Hagrid pulled the door open without the slightest regard for the locking mechanisms that crumbled in the face of his strength.

All three had faced Fluffy that first day when they got lost that first day, and all realised on some level that a month and a half had passed since then. But even the brief glimpse of the room beyond the iron-bound wooden door had Rhiannon’s stomach turning, the walls beyond felt hungry – as if they wanted to swallow her whole, draw her in to trap her within forever. Hagrid let out a low moan of horror and lurched forward, catching himself against the doorframe. He let out a soft keening sound, almost doubled over retching nothing but bile. There was a dull clink of chain shifting on the floor, and a fresh stink assailed her – the copper reek of blood.

Hagrid stood and staggered into the room, a heavy thud told Rhiannon that the big man had fallen to his knees – she couldn’t bear to look, her mind filling in the image already. A low groaning whine sounded from the room, frighteningly soft for the animal they knew it belonged to, repeating over itself in an eerie disharmony. A shuffling clanking sound did nothing to drown the dog’s piteous tripled whine, as evidently Hagrid fished for something under his heavy coat. He grunted, straining against something, and then there was a sharp clank of breaking metal, and a discordant jangle Rhiannon belatedly identified as falling chain. Perhaps a month ago that might have been followed by the desperate scrabble of dull and bloodied claws on the filthy stone of the floor, but as it was all Rhiannon heard was a dull whumpwhumpwhump, heavy like leather – she choked back a sob as she realised that was all the dog could respond with, and that even in his condition he still trusted his master, still tried to greet him.

“Rhiannon, get going on. Hermione, you turn around – I don’t want anyone to see this what doesn’t have to.” Hagrid’s voice sounded too loud over Fluffy’s low whimpers, muffled scraping and shuffling sounds matched with the occasional pained yelp accompanying him as Rhiannon guessed he rigged the canvas into a sling around the dog’s chest. He grunted with effort, and Rhiannon caught a glimpse of the sling anchored over his shoulder against his neck, a canine frame seen side-on supported under his arm before she turned and fled, stumbling the first few steps and catching herself against the railing of the stair lest she fall. At a more steady pace she descended the stairs, remembering to step over the trick step that had trapped her cat that first day and hurrying down the rest, her heart and breath racing as she forced herself not to run from the room she was sure would haunt her nightmares.

For all their anxiety in planning, the four of them and Fluffy managed to creep out of the castle with relatively little disturbance – Fluffy was worryingly quiet, though Rhiannon could hear Hagrid’s muffled murmuring some way behind her as she stayed ahead of the group. At one time she was startled by Caretaker Filch’s cat, but Mrs Norris’ orange eyes grew round in horror and she skittered away with a frightened yowl as evidently she caught sight of Fluffy and Hagrid some way behind Rhiannon herself.

Rhiannon felt a weight slip from her shoulders as they left the castle, the moon hanging almost three-quarters full above them and the velvet sky carpeted thickly with stars, and as they passed the outer wall of Hogwarts’ grounds Rhi felt almost light, for the first time since realising what they had unwittingly left Fluffy to endure. As she reached the agreed-upon meeting place outside the range of Hogwarts’ wards near the part of the Forbidden Forest that ran alongside the road down to Hogsmeade Rhi slowed, the frantic energy of the past two days catching up with her. She might have fallen, had Hermione not steadied her as she and the others caught up to Rhiannon, and as it was she swayed on her feet.

A sharp crack split the night, and a redheaded man bearing a striking resemblance to Ron but more closely the twins stepped from an Apparition rift onto the dewy late-night grass before them, holding what looked to Rhiannon’s uninformed eyes to be a tangle of iridescent silvery nylon-like woven fibre and strapping.

“Side-Along Apparition harness,” the man explained at her bewildered glance. “Magical animals fuck with usual Apparition fields a bit and this counters that – something about the properties of the unicorn hair it’s woven from. Plus keeps us attached in case we do get thrown off a touch. Breaks all kinds of international regulations transporting a critter like this without a permit, so we want to get it done quick and from the look of the poor bastard, better we ask forgiveness than permission – it’d be too damn late if we waited for that.” he added, striding forward into Hagrid’s free arm for a hug as the gamekeeper’s stoic expression trembled. Having turned to watch the redheaded man, Rhiannon could now take in the full extent of Fluffy’s condition and she felt her as if her heart pressed at the back of her throat. The animal’s coat was patchy and his skin scabbed, and at this close range Rhi could find the source of the blood she’d smelled earlier, in desperation he had tried to gnaw at the harness under his chest, succeeding only in injuring himself. She remembered numbly how callous Headmaster Dumbledore had been about her own wellbeing - “Certainly, they may have struck you – any parent does, you know. It’s simply a part of growing up – you’re in no danger with your family...”

And that was the way he had thought of the ‘Boy’ Who Lived, supposedly a wizarding hero. It was no wonder he had even less thought for the welfare of an animal – no, a monster, she recalled the wording of her textbook clearly. And yet for what little she had seen of the room it was mostly clear of physical waste. Someone had attended to keeping the room clear, and not seen fit to provide Fluffy with suitable food at the same time – it was callous neglect, they hadn’t just locked him up and forgotten about him they’d known and they didn’t care – Rhiannon broke away sobbing, hugging her arms to her chest. Someone taller – Ron, she guessed - drew her into a hug and she couldn’t even muster the energy to flinch at the prickle of wool on her sensitive face.

When Rhiannon could breathe again she pushed gently on Ron’s chest and stepped out of the hug. With Hagrid’s help the red-haired man – Charlie Weasley – had loosely fastened the harness around Fluffy’s bony chest and he stepped clear, giving Hagrid a last moment as he faced the three students. He shook his head, a low sigh was all he could manage in the moment and he wiped his eyes in the crook of his elbow before addressing them.

“You did good, Ron, girls. Bit later than we’d like but... you can’t be blamed for not knowing who to take it to I guess. Fucking Dumbledore – all the work the sanctuary puts into educating wizards on fair care of magical creatures, even as guards... I guess some’re always like to them as tools.” Charlie said, his voice growing bitter. Rhiannon scrubbed at her prickling eyes and wiped her nose on her already grubby sleeve, and in doing so must have revealed the pale branching scar under her unruly hair for a moment as Charlie’s green eyes widened. His mouth quirked up at the side, a rueful sort of half smile. “Still, if Harry Potter herself knows better... maybe there’s a chance.” he added, offering Rhiannon his hand.

Rhiannon, distracted by the gut-wrenchingly unpleasant sensation of wrongness her old name brought, magnified now that she had stopped pretending to own it in any capacity, took a moment to realise that Charlie meant for her to shake his hand. Awkwardly she did so, internally cringing at the clumsy feeling of the contact – why, why did people pick that as their greeting? - before she bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Rrrr-Rh-Rhiannon,” she mumbled, the soft syllables of her name blurring into one another. Rhi coughed and tried again. “Rhiannon. Not Harry.”

A brief flicker of surprise crossed the young man’s scarred face, before it resolved into a genuine smile. “Well, Rhiannon – regardless. You’re a refreshing sort of surprise.” Charlie replied, disengaging his hand and grinning as Rhi wiped hers on her jumper and shook it, to remove the last of the sensation. “Hagrid – I’ll owl you when we’re back to the sanctuary, yeah?” he said, dusting his hands on his coat as he carefully took the harness from Hagrid, clipping it into the simple cross-shoulder harness he wore already. “And Ron – enjoy detention, know you earned it good.” Charlie added, the five of them heartened by the weak but affectionate lick Fluffy slimed Hagrid’s face with in parting. He waved to them and then with a motion as if he drew a hole in the air itself, he turned and – crack - he and Fluffy vanished.

Wearily, Hagrid sank to his knees, strangled sobs shaking his massive form. Wordlessly, Ron hugged him, and the two girls let them the space they needed for a moment. That moment passed and Hagrid stood, brushing Ron aside with a gruff murmur. “Best be getting back,” he mumbled and gestured to the three, unsteadily shepherding them back up the hill towards the outer grounds wall.

The sparse grass was damp and dewy under Rhiannon’s feet and her school shoes soaked as she trudged up the hill in step with Hermione and a few behind Ron. Her mind was too tired now to wander, she’d worried as far as getting Fluffy out – now that he was, the idea of events outside of their mission was one too slippery for Rhi to grasp and so she plodded along with head down and eyes heavy, only semi-aware of her surroundings.

In such a manner, Rhiannon was slow to respond as Ron halted suddenly and collided with him. She blinked and shook her head, squinting as a lamp sputtered to life in the darkness beneath the archway entry to Hogwarts’ grounds and her heart sank to her sodden shoes. Hermione’s clammy hand crept into hers and they all were very quiet under the high moon as they found themselves facing a livid Professor Dumbledore, a truculent Argus Filch and a miserable Faye Dunbarr.

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Having been caught out, Rhiannon found herself and her friends facing term-time detention in addition to their holiday punishment. Faye had failed to divert Peeves entirely and while she had kept him at bay long enough for Rhiannon and the others to get out of the castle with Fluffy, she had been discovered out of bed by Filch and the entire haphazard plot unraveled. Headmaster Dumbledore was, to a word, furious – a sort of unfamiliarly cold and calculating anger that set Rhiannon on edge, but as several days passed with no word from Hagrid she became more and more worried that whatever Dumbledore set in the way of punishments for the students, he was in for worse.

As it was a second transgression by Rhiannon and her three friends, the four of them found themselves facing semi-regular detention at least two nights a week, menial labour and stocktaking for the most part. Between them they had lost two hundred points for Gryffindor, and Rhiannon’s earlier popularity had well and truly worn away as their housemates had nothing but muttered resentment for the four of them as they passed in hallways – save for Neville and Parvati of course, who felt alienated by the treatment of their peers.

Rarely were all four troublemakers assigned to work together, and so it was that Rhiannon found herself partnered with Ron late on the Wednesday 31^st of October in the dungeons of Hogwarts. To add insult to injury their pets had been confiscated – Ron’s rat Scabbers, Callie and Faye’s uniquely disruptive short-eared owl Una were to reside with Hagrid until the Christmas holidays, meaning they didn’t even have company to ease their bad temper as they scrubbed at the filthy cobbles of the boys’ bathroom while sounds of the Samhain feast drifted down from the Great Hall some distance above. This particular assignment seemed too pointed to Rhiannon and she worked in mutinous silence, a resentful torrent of complaint running unvoiced through her head.

Rhiannon was too preoccupied by her ill temper to notice the sudden commotion from upstairs and the cessation of the celebratory chatter, but Ron was not and he caught her arm, his thin face tense with worry. Immediately he released her, holding up his hands defensively as Rhi flinched away and glared at him, but he put a finger to his lips and shook his head as she opened her mouth to snap at him. Dragged now from her sullen sinkhole, Rhiannon could hear why – gone was the cheering and laughter, replaced with a low, pensive rumble and dull murmurings as if the foundation of the castle itself sulked. This illusion was broken as the rumbling drew near, now identifiable as a sort of heavy leathery thunder on the dungeon floors. Ron and Rhiannon shrank back as whatever it was halted, near – too near, the sound joined now by a low growl and the heavy breathing of something very, very large. Ron waved his hands urgently, Rhi didn’t respond – she was stiff with fear, hazel eyes wide. Her friend seized her again by the shoulder and this time she didn’t fight him as they hurried into a corner, helplessly casting around for a way out – none. There was none, whatever it was it stood on the other side of the only exit.

‘Whatever it was’ was a question answered all too quickly as it’s breathing hitched, sniffed – and the bathroom door creaked in protest as the creature on the other side shoved it, a low growl of frustration resonating in the still air as the door held. The creaking ceased abruptly as the creature shifted and Rhiannon breathed a sigh of relief. Ron shook his head and held his hand over her mouth now – a good thing, as with a splintering crash the door caved inward under a terrible blow, revealing the creature that threatened them as it stooped beneath the doorway and lumbered in, a helpless shriek escaping Rhiannon’s throat as part of the doorway arch crumbled against its’ too wide shoulders, the creature now standing upright in the dimly lit bathroom and taking in its’ surroundings.

It stood well over twelve feet tall, skin a dull grey and pitted like ancient granite stretched over heavy, irregular bones and rough muscle. It’s features were crude, like to a statue partially carved and left unfinished, and it swayed as if the upright position was unnatural to it. That theory was confirmed as it dropped forward, resting on it’s knuckles and baring blunt, chipped teeth in a bestial snarl. A rank stench flooded over Ron and Rhiannon at the action, the creature’s breath reeked of rotten meat and bitter herbs. Rhiannon turned wide eyes upward on Ron, a soft keen of terror rising in her throat – since she had joined the magical world she had seen sick, and strange, and horrifying – but nothing that so fully matched the common perception of monster. “T-tr-tttt-troll,” she whispered as Ron adjusted his hand over her mouth.

That unthinking sound was their undoing and with a roar the troll lunged for their position, a previously-unseen club shattering the sinks in its’ rush. Wide-set muddy yellow eyes roved through the rubble, squinting in the light of the crude chandelier and hollow with hunger. Rhiannon and Ron scrabbled backwards, slipping sideways into a damaged cubicle in a vain effort to hide. Rhiannon’s blood rushed in her ears, sweeping away vision in a great black wave and she sobbed soundlessly, her mind crowded with disjointed images and memory and pain – never, for all the Dursleys’ beating, had she been so certain she was about to die.

A high voice carried over the hungry growl of the troll as someone else entered the bathroom. “Oi! OI, PEABRAIN!” someone cried, the accent was familiar even in Rhiannon’s panic – heavy inner Hebrides scottish. Faye. Rhiannon choked on a startled laugh, her imminent death averted for the moment. The looming presence of the troll withdrew, snarling, and someone – presumably Faye – bashed something metal against the wall of the dungeon bathroom, evidently the troll wasn’t far enough away. Ron squeezed her shoulders and away, he let go only for Rhiannon to grab clumsily for the sleeve of his jersey. That was enough of a clue and he swore, then again as that must have attracted the troll’s attention. He took hold of Rhiannon’s hand, his palms rough and sweaty with fear, and pulled her flat to the ground. “Gonna crawl,” he hissed. Tentatively Rhiannon put up a hand to feel for the bottom of the stall, finding the flimsy jib-board edged with aluminium. There was about a foot of space between that and the floor and she flattened herself to the damp stone, wincing at the mildewy reek of it. Ron pushed her through ahead, following her through a foot or so behind, both hampered by Rhiannon’s death grip on his right hand.

Faye kept up a string of taunts, and Rhiannon shrank into the back wall of the bathroom in a futile effort to evade a terrible crash. She feared their paltry shelter would be swept out from above them as the troll swung at Faye, Rhiannon guessed numbly that the way it moved supported on feet and knuckles, it must have made a round haymaker swing and clipped the top of the cubicles in an arc as it struck at their rescuer. Rescuers, she amended as a shrill scream sounded over the dry crunch of particleboard stalls. Not a frightened one, that was Hermione too angry to speak, by the sounds of it she’d hurled something at the troll.

Ron pulled Rhiannon to her feet, she shifted her grip to his elbow and fumbled for her wand as she leaned in the corner formed by the stone walls – they’d crossed the room, they weren’t dead, she had a wand. Ron made a muttered attempt at protest, Rhi stepped on his foot and shook her head grimly. Another yell, this time from Faye again, and Ron lunged forward, towing Rhiannon with him out into the open space. She still clutched at his elbow, tilting her head vainly to figure out where the troll was in relation to them. By her guess, the two pairs and the troll formed a sort of triangle across the space. Ron snatched awkwardly for his wand, but they were at an impasse – he and Rhiannon had a clear shot to the door, but the troll would intercept them before they could.

The impasse was broken by Hermione. “Titillaudia!” she yelled, stuttering at first try but finding her voice. Rhiannon didn’t hear the rush of the hex, but she did hear it’s effect as the troll groaned, dull thuds sounding in the enclosed space as it attempted to clutch its’ ears to dampen the effects of Hermione’s Twitchy-Ears hex. The creature grew increasingly distressed and Rhiannon quivered on the spot, fighting the urge to flee, knowing that would be fatal. Her vision prickled, pale sparkles swimming before her, revealing snatches of imagery through the lightless curtain. The troll’s frantic clutches ceased and it roared, enraged now, and lunged for Hermione and Faye.

Rhiannon didn’t think, didn’t consider her only guide on the scene were scattered flickers of input. She broke free of Ron and charged the troll, stumbling a step and colliding with its’ heavy, pitted leg. “L-Lumos!” she yelled, remembering dimly as the troll swung toward her that it had been sensitive to the light. She didn’t have to see to feel the pulse in her wand, but her idea fell short somewhat – instead of simply crushing her, the troll snatched at her as it tried vainly to dull the light, its’ club discarded. The creature caught Rhiannon in one of its’ massive hands and she shrieked, flailing wildly in its’ grasp. The toe of her shoe caught it in the nerve cluster of the wrist and its’ grip weakened, sending her sliding down its’ arm to its’ shoulder where she clung for life to the matted tangle of it’s hair. Behind her she dimly registered Ron’s roar of fury, Faye’s string of ineffective hexes, Hermione soundless, she swayed and staggered for balance.

Too easily this would have been an end. It should have by all rights. But Ron seized on the club that had been discarded, and his yelled “Wingardium Leviosa!” stabbed at Rhiannon’s ears. She shrank away a moment too late as the club shot upwards, bashing the troll beneath its’ heavy jaw. It staggered and swayed, a low moan escaping it as it caught itself again the wall. Slowly, then all at once it pitched sideways and Rhiannon was thrown against the side of its’ head as they both crashed to the ground with a dizzying crunch and a sick give beneath Rhiannon’s outstretched wand hand.

Rhiannon groaned and stood, easing aching knees and bruised ribs. She went to pull away and found her wand stuck. Revolted she let it go and staggered back, her vision now mixed sight and blankness like the snow report on a broken television, and she would have kept going had Ron not caught her. Her breathing crowded her senses and she doubled over, fighting a wave of nausea that threatened to swamp her.

Someone removed Rhiannon’s wand with an unpleasant sucking sound, and the troll stirred uncomfortably. Faye – it must have been she who handled the wand – snorted, and Rhi tilted her head at the sound of a contextless rustle of fabric. “Wipin’ it on my kilt,” Faye explained cheerfully. She crossed the room and returned the wand to Rhiannon’s hand, closing the other girl’s shaking hands around it. “You managed to get the fucker lodged in ‘is ear, no wonder he’s out for the count.”

The image was so unpleasant and so strange, Rhiannon burst out laughing, and she leaned on Ron’s shoulder for a good long time as the gravity of the situation sank in. They’d just about died, until Ron knocked out a troll with the same uppercut he’d given himself in class more than once attempting to learn that charm and then she’d gotten her wand stuck in it’s ear. Well, now it really was a used tool, she thought, wiping helpless tears from her eyes.

Her laughter covered the approaching hurried footsteps, and Rhiannon was startled to suddenly find the bathroom crowded and the clatter of hard-soled shoes fading into the walls as whoever it was stilled.

“Harry Potter-” someone – Dumbledore, Rhiannon realised with a groan, thundered by way of introduction only to be cut off with an indignant yelp as someone else elbowed their way forward. Rhiannon and her three friends found themselves squashed together in a scratchy hug for a moment before they were released. “Rhiannon, mercy look at the lot of ye’s.” That could only be Minerva McGonagall, and Rhi felt a surge of relief – Dumbledore was always more restrained with her present. “Why is it, when there’s trouble, it’s always you lot? Ingólfur, take them up to Poppy, please – before the walls fall down or something.” she added, exasperation in her tone. Rhiannon, pretty much stuck like glue to Ron and Hermione with Faye in tow, let herself be shepherded out of the crumbling room and towards the dungeon stairs. Caneless and clumsy on them, she overheard Minerva and Dumbledore beginning to argue.

“Honestly Dumbledore, I really do wonder sometimes – leaving four first years split up in the dungeons while the rest of us are feasting? You’re as good as asking for something like this. You watch yourself...” she lost the rest in the ever-dizzying clamour of shoes on stone as they began to climb the stairs in earnest, sinking slowly into shock now buoyed by the warmth of Professor McGonagall’s words – someone believed her. Someone else saw. And she was safe.