Hogwarts Reimagined

Content warning - panic, dissociation as a result of panic, deadnaming

The next day, Rhiannon awoke late, itchy and pained with the onset of the full moon. Her head was foggy and she felt too hot, at once restless and too tired to move. Then she remembered the day’s plans to visit Diagon Alley, and flopped back against the couch with a groan.

“Rhi, you want the shower?” Ginny called downstairs. Shower. Warm water... nooooo, that was too hot, and Rhiannon groaned again and covered her face with a blanket.. Ginny laughed at her. “You’ll feel better, don’t you feel all gross and slimy? Come on, you can borrow some of my clothes, we’re probably about the same size.” she wheedled.

That enticed Rhiannon out of bed. Ginny was right – she did feel gross and slimy, and she hated to sleep in her clothes, it always made her feel cross and lumpy the next day. Rhiannon fetched her cane – much battered now with use, but it had been recovered from the Chamber and she was attached to it now, and untangled herself from the mess of blankets on the couch. She clumped upstairs with much grumbling and hisses of pain, but once she had showered and changed into Ginny’s spare clothes she did feel better – even if Ginny was three inches taller than her and she’d had to roll her jeans up at the bottom. Thus dressed, Rhiannon made her way back downstairs for breakfast. Mrs Weasley had anticipated hungry teenagers and put out a fine spread, and Rhiannon fell on it with delight, not interested in conversation until she’d eaten.

Fed and cleaned, Rhiannon felt a little more human – well, relatively speaking. She only grumbled a little as they all readied themselves for the trip to Diagon Alley, and piled into Mr Weasley’s car between Luna and Ron with little complaint. Mrs Weasley looked back at them from the front passenger seat. “All good to go? I got a note from Xen this morning with permission to get out money for Luna’s supplies, and Dudley too if he needs them, so we’re all set.” she said.

Rhiannon shook her head, and looked over at Dudley who sat in the back with Ginny and the twins. “No, not Dudley’s – we can use money from my vault for that.” she replied firmly. Dudley looked at her, a little bewildered, and she shook her head. “No – really. You’re basically my brother now, right? S-s-s-s-s-so whatever’s in there, it’s yours too, it’s not doing me any good just sitting there like – some kind of dragon hoard or whatever.”

Dudley snickered, and even Mrs Weasley cracked a wry smile. “Well, that’s that sorted – now let’s head off, shall we?” she said. Arthur started the car, and they set off for London in the battered little car that sped along far quicker than it should have been able to go.

When they reached London, they set the car down in an alley tucked beside the Leaky Cauldron and all piled out again. Mrs Weasley swatted Fred and George with her handbag when they tried to sneak off into the Cauldron alone, which amused the rest of them. Percy had not come with them – he claimed to be studying, but Rhiannon suspected from the scowls he’d cast her way at dinner that he simply didn’t want to spend his time with werewolves. She shrugged, not nearly as bothered by that as she might have been last year – if Percy didn’t want to spend time with her, that was his problem, because the rest of the Weasley family were perfectly nice.

Once Mrs Weasley had gotten the twins in line and her husband had retrieved their shopping bags from the car, they all headed into the Leaky Cauldron. Even at around eleven o’clock as it was, the place was busy, and both Rhiannon and Luna covered their ears against the noise. Mr Weasley too looked distinctly uncomfortable, and while his wife chatted amiably with the bartender he hustled the children through the back of the pub and out into the enclosed nook that led to Diagon Alley. “Who’s got a wand to hand? My hands are full,” Mr Weasley asked them.

Ron grinned, and produced his. “I do,” he replied cheerfully. He produced a wand from his pocket that Rhiannon was a little startled to recognise as Ginny’s. She looked over at Ginny, in time to see the younger girl’s bitter expression as she turned away. It made sense, for Ron to use his sister’s wand – his had been giving him trouble all of last year, after all... but it had to hurt, for Ginny to have given up hers. Or maybe it would have hurt even more to carry it, a permanent reminder that she’d lost something. Dudley coughed quietly and shifted over from beside Rhiannon to comfort Ginny instead, while Rhiannon turned her gaze to where the wall creaked, groaned and then swung open piece by piece to reveal the great alleyway ahead.

Rhiannon could not see all the way down it, without her glasses as she always had to be near the full moons, so she stayed close to Luna and Ron as they set off down the street. Their first stop was Gringotts as it always was, to withdraw money for supplies and her own yearly allowance. That was something to consider too – as a third-year, Rhiannon would be permitted to visit Hogsmeade, the village near the castle, on designated weekends. It was the largest only-magical community in all the British Isles save for some in the Republic of Ireland – and they didn’t count, since they were pretty adamantly not a part of Britain. Rhiannon was excited to see it, but she’d never considered needing money for anything at school before.

As she’d done the year before, Rhiannon gave her key and written permission to Mr and Mrs Weasley so that they could withdraw the given amount from her vault, and sat down on the steps to study her Hogwarts letter more closely. She’d only skimmed it for confirmation that she was in Gryffindor house, and not really seen much more, so she took the time to read it now. It had the usual polite letter of welcome back to Hogwarts, as well as a reminder to bring pocket money if they intended to visit Hogsmeade, and a supplies list. She hid hers from the others as it had supplies for all of her new classes, and just in time too as George peered over her shoulder.

“What house’d they put you in?” George asked her, as Rhiannon hurriedly shoved her supplies list in her pocket.

“Oh – uh – Gryffindor,” Rhiannon replied with a shrug. “Guh- guess Minerva wants to keep an eye on me, what with last year and everything.”

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’m in Hufflepuff this year – guess she thought the same thing, that I need a break. Em’s with me, but Hayley isn’t – it’s going to be weird.”

At that, Dudley scowled. “I got put in Ravenclaw, which, cool and all, but – I’d rather stick with you, if that’s all right... I know they said they’d accept more students like us but, I didn’t really make other friends in my year... I think I’ll ask if I can swap.”

Ginny had been bristling at the idea that Dudley might have wanted to look after her, and Rhiannon thought it was quite clever of her cousin to make it more about his own feelings than trying to convince her. Luna shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m in Miremark – the new house. Where are the rest of you?” he asked, looking up at the Weasleys.

Ron read his letter again and shrugged as well. “Gryffindor again – but I guess I’d best not get comfortable, it can change again next year right?” he replied.

The twins looked at eachother, and George drooped. “Fred’s in Gryffindor too. I’m in Ravenclaw.” he said, his tone uncharacteristically flat.

Rhiannon looked over at the two of them. She hadn’t thought of that. She’d only really thought of what the House changes meant for herself and her closest friends, but anyone could get moved, couldn’t they? Except presumably the Prefects. Anyone on the Quidditch team could have been moved, too. She supposed that made it fairer – the Quidditch team selection was definitely somewhat nepotistic – but it would be weird, to play with others. To play without their crack team of Beaters, for the twins to be split up. And she supposed they’d be feeling weird about it too – hadn’t they played on the team together since their second year? No wonder they looked a little deflated.

Before they had much more to talk about, Mr and Mrs Weasley returned, and handed purses of money to Rhiannon and Luna. “For your supplies, dears – now, who needs new uniforms?” Mrs Weasley asked them. Embarrassed, all of the younger Hogwarts students raised their hands. Rhiannon was now a solid four feet eight inches or thereabouts, and she, Luna and Ginny had all ruined their uniforms in the Chamber a few months before, and Ron and Dudley both had also sprouted too tall for their own school robes. Mrs Weasley chuckled and shook her head. “Well, no point in us splitting up, if you all need them. Let’s get books first, yes?” she suggested. “Arthur, dear, would you take them? I have to get my own supplies for the house.”

Arthur shrugged and handed over some of the shopping bags to his wife. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed easily, and beckoned to his children and the others. They set off with him back down the wide street – too wide to accurately be called an alley, but the wizards liked their joke names. The walls of Flourish and Blotts were covered in posters, and Rhiannon stared at one of them in shock as she read on it; Gilderoy Lockhart – Pride Before a Fall. Of course it would be a national story! His crimes went far beyond the very, very stupid thing he had tried to do at Hogwarts. She drifted closer to the poster to read, squinting at the tiny print that jumbled together, the colours didn’t work in her vision and she scowled at the poster ill-temperedly.

“Harry Potter!” someone exclaimed, and Rhiannon stumbled backwards shaking, a growl rising in her throat as she faced someone dressed in wizarding robes of a sort of greyish purple in her mixed-up vision, brandishing a clipboard and quill. “Harry Potter, a word please! What do you think about Sirius Black’s escape? What about Lockhart?”

Rhiannon cast around blankly for the name, coming up short. “It-it-is-iss- Rhiannon,” she snapped, slurring clumsily over the fluid shape of her name as she tried and failed to speak without having planned to. “L-e-le-le-l-lea’ me ‘lone,”

Arthur stepped in front of Rhiannon, his arm held up as a barrier between her and the woman, who Rhiannon guessed dimly must be a reporter of some kind. “That’s enough,” he snapped, his usually amiable voice grim. “You have no right to harass a child in the street. Get lost.”

The reporter protested, and Arthur swore angrily, snatching his wand from his pocket. “I’m serious. Rack off.” he snapped sharply. Cowed, the reporter stuffed her quill into her pocket and hurried away. Arthur turned to Rhiannon and bent down so that he was eye-level with her. “Rhiannon, dear – are you alright?”

Rhiannon nodded numbly, and shrugged. “Wh-wh-wh-who – wh-who was that, they wanted to hear about? Sirius B-b-b-b-b-b-black?” she asked. To her it sounded as if her voice came distantly, as if her lips were numb and someone else spoke with them. As if she’d been frightened out of her own body by a simple shock. But that was a silly thought, and she shook herself.

Arthur shook his head, and squeezed Rhiannon’s shoulder firmly. “That’s not my place to tell you. Ask your foster-father, if you really feel you have to know, but it’s not my place.” he replied, though his low voice trembled a little. He straightened up and dusted himself off, and put on a shaky smile. “Now, let’s get your schoolbooks, yes?”

Rhiannon shivered and rubbed her arms to bring the feeling back. “S-s-s-ss-sure,” she agreed slowly, and limped over to push the door open. “Le’s.”

Inside, Flourish and Blotts was a riot of warmth and noise that made Rhiannon feel even more distant from herself. She shivered, and leaned as much on the wall as her cane, as she hobbled over to the counter, as if she sat just outside her body and watched someone else move it. “I-i-i need...” she stammered, slurring her words. She fumbled for her supplies list in her pocket, and slapped it onto the counter, her hand shaking. “B-b-b-b-bo-bo-boo-k-k-k-s-books.”

Someone took hold of Rhiannon’s elbow, though she barely recognised the touch. Ron. He rubbed her shoulder, and turned the paper over for the patient shopkeeper. “Intermediate Transfiguration, Unfogging the Future, The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three, and... all the rest of this, I suppose, Christ, Rhi - that’s a lot of books.” Ron said, looking concernedly at her.

Rhiannon shrugged, lost for words to find a convenient lie. She shook her head, and Ron sighed. “Ah well, must be doing extra classes in your free time,” he added. “And uh... we need more of these, um... another lot of books for a third year, three second years, two fifth and one seventh.” he rattled off, and held out his hand for everyone to pass him their lists. He put them all down on the counter, and the shopkeeper covered his face with his hands.

“How many Monster books?” he asked them, his voice weary.

Ron flicked through the lists, checking. “Uh... guess everyone needs them so... one, two, three... seven?” he replied.

The shopkeeper groaned, and fetched a heavy baton from behind the counter. “Alright, let’s get this over with... Mya! Mya, I need you to fetch the rest of these.” he called. A short woman with brown hair cut in a bob peered out of a back room and trotted over to the front desk. She flicked through the pile of school lists and favoured them all with a smile, then hurried off to fetch books while Rhiannon and the others stood around awkwardly.

Rhiannon shivered and hugged herself. She wanting to tell Ron, ‘Thanks for the rescue’, but didn’t have the words for it. She fumbled in her pockets – no pen, either. She sighed, and leaned on the shop counter for support. Eventually the shop workers returned carrying stacks of books, the Monster Books humming and rattling angrily against the belts used to restrain them.

“D-d-d-d-doesn’ anybody know t’ pet them?” Rhiannon grumbled quietly, more to herself than anything else, and reached out for the books on the counter. As she stroked their spines, they fell still and purred softly in the weird way they had.

“They make Nyx look like a puppy,” Ron grumbled, as he stowed books into shopping bags.

Luna giggled. “Let’s be fair, Nyx pretty much is a puppy,” he replied, reaching out to ruffle Rhiannon’s hair teasingly. Rhiannon screwed up her face and sneezed, startled by the touch, and Luna let go with a last squeeze of Rhiannon’s shoulder.

Arthur chuckled, and stowed all their books into the bags he had brought. “I’ll go back and put these in the car. You lot head off and get your uniforms, yeah? I’ll pick up supplies from the apothecary, and meet you back out the front.” he suggested.

They agreed, and headed off out of the shop to Madam Malkin’s Fine Robes, the tailor. Luna held Rhiannon’s hand as they entered, to find it quieter and peaceful, possibly even magically so given the comparative bustle outside. And there was another surprise, one Rhiannon smelled as soon as she stepped in the door. She cast about for the source of it, and cast off Luna’s hold once she’d found it. Hermione. They’d seen eachother only the previous day, but it was still a wrench to spend any time apart at all. Rhiannon limped across the shop, a wide, lopsided smile on her face, to greet her closest friend. She spread her arms wide and shrugged awkwardly, offering a hug, and it was Hermione who lurched into her arms and squeezed her tightly.

“Can’t talk?” asked Hermione, to which Rhiannon shook her head. Ron drifted over and patted Rhiannon’s shoulder awkwardly.

“We got hassled by a reporter outside Flourish and Blotts, really freaked her out,” Ron filled in, to which Hermione wrinkled her nose and ended the hug to hold Rhiannon at arms’ length. Gently, she reached over and brushed Rhiannon’s hair out of her face. Slowly, gradually, Rhiannon began to relax, and Luna and Hermione alternated comforting her with small touches and quiet reassurances whenever she struggled with the tailor-witch’s occasional prods, even as considerate as Madam Malkin was trying to be.

After some time, they were finished with their uniforms and joined Arthur outside. He levitated several ice-creams in the air beside him, which he handed out to all of them as they left the shop. “Hermione Granger, right?” he asked, to which she nodded. “Here, you have mine – I’ll head back and get myself one. Fred, George, you look after everyone or Molly’ll have my hide.” he added, offering his ice-cream to Hermione. She took it a little anxiously, and Arthur headed off back to the ice-cream shop.

“All right?” Ron asked her, as Hermione licked the treat cautiously.

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t have ice-cream much, so I don’t – really know what I like or not, I guess. My dad’s a dentist, remember? He’s all fussy about sugar.” she replied. Some of the icecream got on her nose. Rhiannon giggled, and wiped it off with her sleeve, but she still wasn’t really speaking.

Aside from books and uniforms, they had only minor errands to run and split off into their own groups to fill them, with the agreement they’d meet back at the Cauldron after. Rhiannon and Ron drifted over to Quality Quidditch Supplies, for Rhiannon to pick up replacement Seeking gloves – she’d chewed on her last set over the holidays. Kids both older and younger than she crowded around the window and, curious, Rhiannon stood on tip-toe to see. Despite having grown another inch, she was still too short to see.

“I’m not Hermione, I can’t conjure you a box – sorry,” Ron teased. Rhiannon screwed up her face and blew a raspberry at him, and Ron ruffled her hair. He stood tall to peer over the shoulders of the other teenagers, then dropped back to his heels, his mouth agape in amazement. “They finally got the shipment in – it’s the Firebolt, the newest, fastest broomstick on the market. Ireland got a whole set, even extras for the substitutes.” he breathed, evidently awestruck.

Rhiannon shrugged, and made grabby hands at him until he handed over the pen and pad of paper they’d found for themselves earlier. Rhiannon drew silly scribbly faces on it – she really wasn’t much of an artist – and then, in her messy handwriting, she managed to tease him back about his excitement, a fair return for the jab about her height. They exchanged good-natured mixed-medium ribbing, waiting for the crowd to disperse, but it didn’t, and finally she gave up. I don’t really need new gloves – let’s just go back, I hurt, and that line’s not clearing up anytime soon.

Ron shrugged too. “Fair enough. Let’s head to the Menagerie, then, I need to grab something for Scabbers before we head back.” he agreed. They set off down the street to the Magical Menagerie, Ron helping Rhiannon along when one of her knees gave out. Inside the shop, Rhiannon shivered and shrank from the chatter of animals. The first time she’d been there, she’d hardly noticed the clamour – she’d been drawn straight to the cats and her senses hadn’t been so sensitive then. The place smelled, too, of mixed animals’ fear and dung and soured feed. Rhiannon felt, green somehow, weak and dizzy, and she strengthened the jinxes on her ears and nose to save herself the discomfort. Ron turned to her and squeezed her hand. “You wait outside – I’ll be just a minute.” he murmured. Rhiannon nodded, grateful, and left the shop to lean against the wall outside.

Ron returned about ten minutes later. “They said it’s no good... he’s really old, if he’s looking sick I gotta just, let him be,” he said miserably, turning over a bottle in his hands. “They gave me a tonic for ‘im, but... they didn’t seem to think it’d do much good.”

Rhiannon squeezed his hand and smiled as best she could, but she couldn’t manage words of reassurance. Ron had never seemed very enthusiastic about Scabbers as a pet, but Rhiannon wasn’t about to say so – she knew as well as anyone that you could complain all you liked about something, and still love it, it was how she felt about her cat sometimes. Especially when the fluffy bastard creature left bits of mouse as tribute.

“Come on, then – let’s go find Dad and the rest, and we’ll get on home,” Ron suggested, and he took Rhiannon by the arm as they headed back down the street to the pub that formed the entrance to the little corner of the wizarding world they stood in. To their surprise, when they met back up with the remaining Weasleys, they found Evelyn and Danjuma, along with Hermione again.

“I asked Mr. Weasley and my parents, but um – if it’s alright, I wanted to, join you tonight. Only if it’s okay with you – it’s just, I’ve never seen you all – you know, and I – wanted to come. If you...” Hermione trailed off, and Rhiannon hugged her. She squeezed Hermione’s hand, then tapped twice against it. Hermione blinked, and looked up at her. “Yes?” she asked, her voice soft and breathy. Rhiannon nodded, beaming. Hermione squealed and hugged her again, wiggling with excitement.

Hermione’s parents chuckled, and Arthur coughed. When Rhiannon and Hermione looked up, he gestured with his hand at the door to outside. “If that’s settled, we may as well head off – it’ll be a long trip home and I’m sure you two are feeling the strain by now,” he said, with a nod to Rhiannon and Dudley. Both of them winced and nodded, and they all headed out to the car. Rather than crush back into the Weasleys’ car with everyone else, Rhiannon, Dudley and Luna joined Hermione and her parents in their station wagon. It would be a long trip back from London to Dorset, but the Ndiaye-Grangers promised plenty of rest stops and they had enough time – just – to make it back before moonrise.

When finally they returned to the Burrow, Rhiannon and Dudley were fidgety and sore. Even the occasional nudge from Hermione or her other friends grated on Rhiannon’s nerves, and she flopped to the ground in relief as soon as they piled out of the car. It was about five thirty, leaving them roughly two and a half hours before moonrise. “Come on, Mum had tea half-done before we left so it won’t be far,,” Ron said. Rhiannon growled at him and remained spread out on the ground on her back. “Rhi, I know you’re hungry, you eat more than I do,” Ron wheedled.

Rhiannon groaned and sat up, waving her hands at Ron until he helped her to her feet. They limped inside together and flopped back down on a couch, and Rhiannon picked up the book she’d left on the side table that morning to resume reading it. “Mum, where’s my jumper? Did I leave it?” Ginny yelled from somewhere upstairs, startling Rhiannon a little.

“No, dear, I think it’s on the cat!” Mrs Weasley called back from where she was already. Ginny came clumping back downstairs with her boots half-undone, to find her jersey was indeed spread over the midnight-blue longhaired cat who dozed peacefully beside Rhiannon. Rhi tickled the sleeping creature’s ears, eliciting a sleepy purr.

“Lanceloooot,” Ginny grumbled, reclaiming her jumper – much to the cat’s displeasure. “She always steals clothes if I leave them hanging on chairs,” she explained to Rhiannon, who giggled. “Hagrid gave her to me for an early birthday present. She was the last kitten left, and I’d had a bad year, so... Mum said yeah, and I guess she’s mine now.”

Rhiannon offered Ginny a shy smile, but didn’t have much of a response – she still wasn’t really talking. As her shock had receded, it was replaced with the nearness to the full moon – she wasn’t sure what change that made, but there definitely was one. Maybe it was that she felt closer to a wolf than human right now and wolves didn’t talk, as such. She flipped her book open and settled down to read her book, Wolf Speaker, as she’d skipped it earlier in the year and wanted to read the part of the story she’d missed.

“Alright, well, dinner’s almost ready – you just rest, I guess.” Ginny offered awkwardly, and headed into the kitchen to help. Rhiannon shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch and buried herself in her book until Mrs Weasley called the household for dinner.

Dinner was had as quickly as everyone could manage. Percy appeared briefly, but this time he took his meal to his room rather than spend any time he didn’t have to with the werewolves. Afterwards, Rhiannon returned to reading until Hagrid arrived. She traded her shirt and jeans for a dressing gown borrowed from Ginny and limped back downstairs to find a fair gathering of her closest friends, and some extra Weasleys for variety. It was a little too much, all things considered... did they really think she could handle all of them joining her at once? Because she didn’t think so.

Rhiannon’s friends noticed her unease, but Ginny was the first to speak up. “Okay, Fred, George – I think you’re a bit much, right Rhi?” she said, looking at Rhiannon for confirmation. The shorter girl nodded and winced, leaning heavily on her cane as the first prickles of the change bit at her nervous system.

Ginny then turned the same glare on her mother and father. “You too – it’s just been Ron and Luna with them and Hagrid before, and she agreed to Hermione – but you’d probably best stay inside.” she added. Mrs Weasley looked relieved, while her husband looked distinctly disappointed. Rhiannon was glad Ginny took charge – she liked Arthur Weasley, but he did tend to view everything new through the lens of scientific curiosity and she didn’t feel like being a demonstration subject. She reached out and took Ginny’s hand, tugging her into the group with herself, Dudley, Ron, Luna and Hermione. Ginny’s smile wavered, then brightened. “Really? I- I’d like to, but are you sure?” she asked.

Dudley grinned and nodded eagerly. “Yes!” he replied enthusiastically. “But uh – best to stay by the house until we’re done, it’s... not pretty, Wolfsbane or no.” he added.

Hagrid coughed, and they all looked at him. “This is nice an’ all, but the moon’s risen and I can already see ye’re feelin’ it, so come on outside if ye’re comin’,” he said gruffly, and pushed through the little gathering to the back door. He held it open for Rhiannon, Dudley and their friends, who trailed on outside. They exchanged worried glances and concerned murmurs, but Dudley and Rhiannon pulled away from them nonetheless and limped on further into the orchard where they could have a measure of privacy. Rhiannon then parted from Dudley and found herself a quiet place under a sweet-smelling fruit tree of some kind as the inexorable fire of the lycanthropic turn burned through her veins.

With arms that shook, Rhiannon untangled herself from Ginny’s dressing-gown and turned her face to the moon rather than pay her naked body any more attention than she had to. The moon’s pull was a relief from her dysphoria, as well as from pain, as muscles and bone reshaped themselves under her skin, her sensory jinxes fell away and she was left four-legged and much more at home in her body under the moonlight. Rhiannon tilted her head back and howled joyfully, her voice joined by Dudley’s as he did the same. Dudley. She found her cousin’s scent with the ease of instinct, unique among the sweet green scents of the orchard and the very distinctly human scents of their friends. Their friends! She had agreed they could join the night’s wanderings, and they must be wondering if she was alright.

Rhiannon stood carefully, adjusting to the changed balance of a quadrupedal body, and set off back across the soft grass to where her friends gathered together, conversing in low, worried voices. Rhiannon could identify Hermione immediately and bounded up to her, tail wagging and ears pricked happily. She kept a respectful distance, knowing Hermione didn’t like to be jumped all over, but it was a difficult balance to keep – had she not had that human knowing she might have forgotten herself, so excited was she to share this part of her life with her closest friend.

Hermione squealed, and clapped her hands over her mouth as Rhiannon flattened her ears and recoiled from the sound. “Sorry,” she whispered. “You’re just so - cute! I thought you’d be, I don’t know, bigger – one of the main ways of distinguishing werewolves from ordinary wolves is the size, I mean, look at Dudley - but nope – you’re just, tiny!”

Rhiannon flattened her ears again and whuffed softly, looking as sulky as a wolf possibly could. Hermione giggled, and stretched out her hand to scratch Rhiannon’s ears before hastily retracting it. Rhiannon tilted her head and whined, while Hermione stared. “Is it – okay – to touch you?” she asked. Rhiannon made a grumbly sort of noise and padded forward to smush the top of her head insistently into Hermione’s hand.

“Ohhhhhhh my god,” Hermione breathed. Her other hand flapped at her side, more restrained than usual so as to not startle Rhiannon – like a little trapped bird as compared to her usual exuberance. She bounced on the balls of her feet and splayed her hand out on top of Rhiannon’s head, sinking into the denser fluff behind her ears. “Best texture! It’s so so so so so good!”

Rhiannon snorted and whuffed softly, smooshing her head into Hermione’s hand again as her friend wiggled happily and squished her hands in Rhiannon’s fur. The others looked a little bewildered, and Dudley pranced up to them carrying what looked like a broken-off branch, as Rhiannon turned her head to growl at him for prodding her in the shoulder with it. Undeterred, Dudley prodded her again and their friends laughed. Ron nudged Hermione, who was still murmuring “so good, so good, so good” as she toyed with Rhiannon’s fur. Both grumbled about the interruption, and Dudley set about trying to bestow his stick on Ginny and Luna instead.

“Should we head off, before Dudley takes someone out at the knees with that thing?” Hagrid suggested, ruffling Dudley’s ears teasingly as he strolled over. He’d watched them all from a little distance, and Rhiannon was sure she hadn’t imagined the tears in his eyes. She yipped happily and settled herself in between Hermione and Luna, leaning against Hermione’s leg until she got the message to do as Luna did and rest her hand on Rhiannon’s shoulders as they set off at an easy walk through the orchard.

Ginny ran ahead of them laughing madly, having stolen Dudley’s stick from him. Dudley had perked up immediately and bounded off after her, yipping and growling playfully. He was careful not to outpace her too much as he chased her through the trees, but eventually he lost patience and snatched the stick back, to Ginny’s playful outrage. He trotted back to the group with his tail held high and the stick held firmly in his jaws, as Hagrid and the others laughed helplessly and Ginny wheezed for breath.

“Never, in all my days... try to take a stick from a werewolf! Ha!” Hagrid chuckled, much to Ginny’s embarrassment. “Someone should make a Chaser o’ you, you’ve got the nerve – but wash yer hands when ye get in, don’t want t’ be gettin’ any saliva in yeh.”

Ginny wiped her hands on her jeans, but Rhiannon paid her little mind – she’d found something even more interesting that caught her notice as they left the orchard and made their way out into the hills. Rabbit. She sniffed the air and then the ground, picking apart the tangled traces of where the little animal had been. Somewhere here, and recently. With an excited yip Rhiannon abandoned her friends and set off at the easy trot a wolf could maintain for hours, nose to the ground and tail swishing the air happily as she searched for it. There! A flash of white tail caught her eye as the rabbit ran from the sudden invasion of predator scents. There were others Rhiannon noticed – smells of stoats and foxes, but nothing recent, and those smells faded to the back of her awareness as she leapt from her easy trot into a sort of gallop, racing across the soft ground towards the rabbit. She closed on it, instinct driving her paws forward, and her awareness faded further until all she could see was the little circle just in front of her occupied by a small white-tailed body.

That intense focus was her downfall. The rabbit darted down a hole and Rhiannon, driven by instinct without awareness, crashed in after it, her prey lost. She skidded and fell, paws tangled by the hole, to land chin-first on the dew-damp grass in a pile. Now with the hunting thrill gone she drooped, mortified, as her friends caught up to her and their laughter reached her ears.

“Maybe try something a bit less tricky for yer first hunt, Rhi,” Hagrid suggested, amused, as Hermione and Luna helped Rhiannon pick herself up and dust herself off. Dudley bounded over and stuck his nose in Rhiannon’s face, whuffling the soft silly sound that was a wolfish laugh. Rhiannon growled and snapped at him and he backed off, returning to Ginny’s side as Rhiannon herself formed back up with Luna and Hermione.

Ginny and Ron took charge, leading them on a foot track across the hillsides. “There’s warded spots all over these hills, little pockets of magical nature,” Ginny told them, pointing to where a gnome watched them from its burrow. Dudley sniffed at it, and it threw dirt at him and chattered angrily as the others laughed. Rhiannon fell into step with her closest friends as Ginny led them past the gnome and back on the path, pointing out other curiosities to them as they wandered. Rhiannon missed running as she had with only Dudley and Hagrid the year before, but she wouldn’t trade this – companionship, community. She felt whole, real, grounded. This was what werewolves were meant to be. It wasn’t like she wasn’t anxious anymore – that was never really gone. But it faded into the background as the comfort of company took precedence, and she was filled with hope, a hope that had been building as she recovered over the holidays and now, it was only a few weeks until they returned to school. Hermione’s fingers ran over her shoulderblades, Luna’s crinkled her ears and Rhiannon felt a happy sort of rumble rise in her throat. She supposed she’d found a different kind of home here, one that she could take with her, one made up of moonlight and comfort and unity. And she could carry it with her to Hogwarts, no matter what the new year brought.