Hogwarts Reimagined

Content Warning - Coming out (fantasy parallel), brief mention of dysphoria

When Rhiannon came to, it was to pale morning light filtering through her eyelids and the by now very familiar combination of sensations that made up the rough hospital sheets and the soft weighted blanket. Her throat was raw, her mouth too heavy somehow. As she shifted in the bed, that feeling was amplified – her joints were stiff, her skin tender as if it had been burned, and her senses were too sharp. She groaned, then gagged as the sound choked up in her wounded throat, and pushed herself partly upright and onto her side so she could breathe better.

Shoes clopped quietly on the floor, Rhiannon pricked up an ear as she recognised the sound – Madam Pomfrey’s very practical work shoes. She opened one eye to look, then immediately closed it again – too bright. The nurse’s robes rustled, and Rhiannon felt rather than saw her sit down beside the bed.

“I hope I don’t have to tell you how disappointed I am.” Madam Pomfrey said frankly, and Rhiannon wilted. She shook her head, and something behind her curled against her leg. Rhiannon startled, and fumbled around one-handed under the covers trying to figure out what it was – a tail, her tail, but how?

Madam Pomfrey sighed, though the sound was tinged with humour. “Whatever your experiment was – and know that I do have my suspicions – it interacted badly with your lycanthropy – no, don’t worry, we’re already warded and you’re in the far corner,” she assured Rhiannon gently, patting the covers over her hand as the girl startled at the nurse’s frank explanation. “Should you try such experiments in future, it would be wise to note the details. By your reaction and the state we found you in, I would make an educated guess that you attempted a human-to-human transformation. Not to be too blunt, my dear, but you are no longer entirely human. You have different limits to your peers that you need to take more care of. What you took – no, don’t tell me, I need to maintain some plausible deniability – caused a lycanthropic seizure that could just as easily have killed you.”

Rhiannon sobered at the nurse’s words and put one hand to her head, feeling the bruises under her hair where she dimly remembered falling against the stall door. Everything else was a blur, tangled up in strong impressions of scent and fear that Rhiannon couldn’t entirely process. She coughed and rubbed her sore throat, and Madam Pomfrey pressed a glass into her hand. She sniffed it and, on finding it to be water, drank it greedily.

“You- you’re, not... mad?” Rhiannon asked, her voice coming out husky and the words rounded and strange in her mouth that was not quite the right shape. She winced, feeling for the first time uncomfortable with her voice, and rubbed at her throat again.

Madam Pomfrey chuckled quietly, and through half-closed eyes Rhiannon saw her shake her head. “You think you’re the first werewolf to find trouble at Hogwarts? No, dear. I have to say I had hoped you would be more sensible, but you’re also a very clever girl of only twelve, you’re quite capable of finding mischief to get up to.” she explained, her tone a little teasing.

Rhiannon groaned again, and covered her face with her hands, and it was then that she had to acknowledge the change in them properly as claws tapped lightly against her forehead. She dropped her hands from her face and opened her eyes properly, staring down at them in horror. Her hands were ordinarily small and thin, freckled and scattered with silver scarring. Now they were... misshapen, was the only word Rhiannon could think of, as if they’d gotten stuck halfway between her wolflike and humanlike shapes. Her thumb was stiffened and retracted slightly so she struggled to move it, her palms and fingers callused with vestigial colourless padding, and the backs of her hands were very lightly coated with fine black-and-white hairs. Her nails had turned hard and darker, lengthening until they formed partial claws.

Rhiannon could only stare in horror, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Very carefully in respect of her claws, she touched her face, then felt again for the tail that had brushed her legs under the covers. She felt she should scream, flail, panic, anything – but the fright was locked away behind a glass wall somehow, she couldn’t get at it, she just felt strangely muted and incredibly ill at ease as she tried to process what she’d done to herself. Slowly she put her hands up to her head again, feeling her hair had grown thicker and coarser and had spread its roots down around her shoulders and neck. She didn’t like that. And in it were concealed her ears, but not where they ordinarily should be in either of her forms, they were halfway between the two places and still fleshy at their base though they grew hairy and pointed after a fingers-width or so.

“Wh-ha-what- what is this?” Rhi spluttered, any real expression of her fear still locked behind that glass wall. “And wh-wh-a-a-what did you g-ive me?

Madam Pomfrey bowed her head regretfully. “I apologise, truly. But we judged a Calming Draught necessary, in case you became so overwhelmed you did yourself harm.” she replied.

Rhiannon shook her head adamantly, the tendons standing out stiffly in her thin neck. “Th-thi-s? Worse,” she slurred, and Madam Pomfrey nodded again. “Wha-t-else? Why’m I all... this?”

Madam Pomfrey took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes wearily. “The transformative effect essentially caused your lycanthropy to.. flip out, I believe the term goes. It wasn’t sure whether to change back or forward and the instigator of that change was still acting. Eventually, as a result, you got stuck, with some wolfish characteristics where they shouldn’t be.” she explained.

Rhiannon’s ears drooped. “Can I... mirror?” she asked, then yelped and clapped a hand to her mouth as she nicked her lip on her teeth by accident.

The nurse shook her head. “Not yet. Find it by touch first. You can look in the mirror when you shower – I don’t want to set off a shutdown.” she said firmly.

Rhiannon drooped, then perked up a little as another question occurred to her. This time she tried to speak more clearly around the slightly altered jaw shape and heavier, sharper teeth. “Am I... stuck? F-f-f-fo-f’r good?”

At that, Madam Pomfrey again shook her head, smiling in an indulgent sort of way. “No, not at all,” she reassured Rhiannon, who breathed a rattly sigh of relief. “Because you bewildered the lycanthropic cycle all out of time, you’ve caused a temporary sticking in the change. From what I’ve seen previously, you should come right next full moon. Remind me, when is that? I get a bit too busy to keep track of such things in here. It’s the twenty-sixth, if that helps, we just let you sleep through the night to recover you’ve not lost much time.”

“Ff-f-february, s-ixteenth,” Rhiannon supplied helpfully, still struggling with the teeth a little.

Madam Pomfrey groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Of course... the full moon’s only just been, no wonder the response was so bad. Of all the things to get up to... well, there’s nothing for it, Miss Potter. You can’t be out and about like this. You’ll just have to stay here until then. I’ll get you set up in one of the individual rooms so you don’t have to worry about others seeing... oh, my poor furniture...” she trailed off with a sigh.

Rhiannon drooped, and turned her wide eyes on Madam Pomfrey. “B-buh-but... classes? Pl-p-peh-please, miss, I don’t want to skip charms, and P-pr-rofessor McGonagall says I need practice at reversal. And – Quidditch! I can’t miss that!” she said plaintively.

Even Madam Pomfrey could not be unmoved by the puppyish despair, and she sighed in exasperation. “Of course, it’s always the studious ones... very well, Miss Potter, you may attend class on probation only, wearing glamours that I’ll put on you myself, gloves, and your hood up. The slightest growl out of you and you’ll be back here, and you’ll stay here at night regardless. As for Quidditch, well... do your team-mates know?” Rhiannon shook her head, no. “Then you can talk to them about it, they’re all desperate to see you after the morning game anyway.” Madam Pomfrey finished decisively.

Rhiannon sat upright, and her tail pricked up under the covers. “I c-caaa-n see them?” she asked, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice.

Madam Pomfrey covered her mouth to hide her chuckle. “After the game – I’m told your friends Master Weasley and Miss Dunbarr are playing in your absence.” she affirmed.

Rhiannon howled gleefully, then clapped her hands over her mouth and shrank. “Oops,” she mumbled through them while Madam Pomfrey chortled outright.

“And that, miss, is why I’m saying yes on a probationary basis.” Madam Pomfrey warned her. “Now, shower and food. Put this on-” she brought a yellow woollen beanie with a black stripe around the edge out of one of her apron pockets and passed it to Rhiannon, who grimaced. “None of that. Pull it down over those ears, and go have a shower. I’ll get one of the separate rooms ready for you, and I’ll have clothes when you’re done.” she finished, patting Rhiannon’s fuzzy hand firmly to soften her words.

Rhiannon’s shoulders slumped as she jammed the hat down over her ears, they crumpled and shrank from the sensation. She didn’t particularly like showers, and her wolf-self liked them even less. Madam Pomfrey saw this, and wagged a finger at her in warning. “You smell like wet dog and mould,” the nurse said frankly. Rhiannon sniffed, then grimaced – oh indeed she did. “I’ll send for some breakfast for you, too – but not until you’re clean.” Madam Pomfrey wheedled, and that did the trick.

Rhiannon brightened immediately and pushed the heavy blankets off herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed away from the nurse, wrinkling her nose as she did so. She was still wearing Hayley’s slightly-too-big Slytherin uniform, and while someone had siphoned any physical dirt off it the smell persisted. Her bushy black-brown tail poked out from under her skirt but was luckily hidden by the outer robe – if she buttoned it closed at the front she’d probably be alright.

But here Rhi ran into another problem. With her slightly shrunken and stiffened thumb, managing the buttons was a challenge, and eventually she gave up rather than accidentally tear the uniform. She hunched her shoulders and slid off the bed, then immediately wobbled and grabbed for the bedpost. This frame didn’t want to walk bipedally – her spine was slightly curved, just enough to make movement difficult, her legs ever-so-slightly misshapen as her hands had been. Madam Pomfrey silently reached under the bed and retrieved Rhiannon’s cane for her. The handle must have been enchanted with some sort of protective spell, Rhi guessed, because her worries about damaging the carving with clumsy claws were unfounded – she couldn’t even scratch the varnish. Then, curiously, she nibbled on the snake’s head, wondering just how much damage it could resist, and was rewarded with a swat on the arm from Pomfrey.

“Ah-ah-ah,” the nurse admonished her firmly, pulling the curtain away from the bed as Rhiannon tried to hide in it, and hustling her away from the bed and across the room to the bathrooms. “Do you promise not to chew the curtains or the showerhead if I leave you alone for ten minutes?” Madam Pomfrey asked, only half-joking, as they stood just inside the bathroom. It didn’t have a proper door, just a curtain over the entryway that separated it from the rest of the hospital wing, but a sort of heaviness on the curtain suggested to Rhiannon that there was some kind of warding spells in place on it and so she didn’t feel so uncomfortable as she might have. Rhiannon flushed and averted her eyes, thoroughly ashamed, and the nurse relented somewhat. “Oh, fine. Here.” she said, and withdrew a slightly squashy hollow ring from another pocket and handed it over to Rhiannon – she was like Hagrid with her pockets, Rhiannon wondered idly if there was anything edible in them.

“Huh?” Rhiannon asked, sniffing the thing closely. It didn’t smell like anything in particular, which annoyed her – things should have a certain smell, even if it was unpleasant, that was just how the world worked. And it looked a funny sort of pale grey-purple in her vision, though somehow she wasn’t entirely convinced that was right. She brought it up to her face and glared at it suspiciously, noting as she did so the slight bobble texture on the opaque blue surface. That looked like it might be nice to chew... hmm.

Madam Pomfrey’s amused snort confirmed it for Rhiannon just as she put the thing in her mouth. “Got it in one,” the nurse said. “It’s a teething ring. Technically I bought it for my niece, I was meaning to send it when I got a free moment, but I don’t think your belongings would survive if I didn’t intervene. It’s just silicone, nothing special, though if you give it back I can put a Chilling Charm on it and it’ll probably be nicer on your mouth, I’d wager you’re in at least some discomfort with it all out of shape like that.”

At the mention of ‘give it back’ Rhiannon growled and clutched the silicone ring to her chest. Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow, profoundly unintimidated, and Rhiannon backed down and held out the teething ring looking shame-faced. Madam Pomfrey eyed her balefully, and took the ring from her hand – Rhiannon grabbed for it instinctively and then retreated again at the nurse’s glare, while Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and muttered some quiet spell, turning the ring around in her hand to lay the spell over it as an evenly-spread glacial silver haze. Then she returned it to Rhiannon who immediately put it back in her mouth and sighed happily at the pleasant coolness.

“Shower,” Madam Pomfrey told her firmly, steering her towards a shower cubicle even as she chewed on the ring. “There’s a chair in there so you don’t have to stand. I’ll be just through in the next room and so help me if I hear chewing...”

Rhiannon shook her head adamantly, and the nurse chuckled. She patted Rhiannon on the head affectionately which made Rhi feel all wiggly inside and left the bathroom to go and attend to the spare room and her handful of other patients. With nothing else to do, Rhiannon retreated into one of the shower cubicles and pulled the light jib-board door closed with a clatter of aluminium edges. She refused to look at herself as she undressed, and stared resolutely at the ceiling when she stepped under the water. Her padded hands were more sensitive than she was used to and caught on her hair, and Rhiannon wrinkled her nose as she again smelled what Madam Pomfrey had meant – nasty. She rifled through the assorted soaps and such that stood in a little rack inside the cubicle but outside of the shower itself, grimacing as the shower curtain stuck to her form, and sniffed each product looking for one that would make her sneeze the least.

When Rhiannon got out of the shower, she found the dirty uniform had been whisked away and her own clothes set on the bench inside the cubicle instead. There was a spare black robe with them, she supposed it was to cover her tail though she’d probably look quite odd. Rhiannon huffed a sort of self-deprecating laugh and scratched one of her ears absently – don’t be silly, you already look quite odd.

A brisk knock on the stall door made her jump, but she relaxed soon afterwards. “I’ve breakfast, and a crowd of worried peers to see you,” Madam Pomfrey said dryly. “I will insist on the former being attended to first, so come on out.”

Rhiannon pulled the robe on hurriedly and flung the door open in her haste to get out. Friends! In that haste she swung the door right into the nurse, who yelped and swore. “Sorry!” Rhiannon apologised hastily, but she couldn’t entirely repress her very insistent swishing tail and her ears that pricked up through her thick hair.

Madam Pomfrey rubbed her shoulder where the door had struck her, and smiled wryly. “No matter. Breakfast, Miss Potter, come on.” she said, beckoning Rhiannon out of the bathroom. From there they made their way into one of the side rooms, which Rhiannon was glad to see had been made up with her own things and a weighted blanket. Her trunk had been transported down from the dormitory and now rested at the foot of the single bed. Around the round room’s edges were scattered mismatched chairs in case Rhiannon had any visitors. And best of all, her wonderful fluffy growly cat was settled on the bedspread. Rhiannon bounded over to ruffle the cat’s ears and bury her nose in tortoiseshell fur that smelled distinctly like bread, much to Callie’s displeasure.

Rhiannon was saved from having her face clawed by the arrival of something even better smelling than her cat. Food. She sat upright and shuffled around so she could accept the plate, and dug into her breakfast with enthusiasm. Bacon, sausages, eggs – and no bread to make her stomach grumpy. She sighed happily, and Madam Pomfrey left her in peace to eat and fend off a now very interested Callie-cat who thought she deserved some bacon too.

Rhiannon finished her breakfast quickly, though she carefully cut off the bacon rinds for her cat who had been alternately reaching over her, pressing under her arm and meowling plaintively as Rhiannon ate. She licked her fingers clean and absently ruffled the cat’s ears, then set her plate aside and tilted her head curiously to better hear the faint approaching footsteps outside.

“Rhiannon? I’ve got a small army of muddy Quidditch players here to see you and they’re refusing to leave. Are you alright for me to let them in?” Madam Pomfrey asked from outside the door. Rhiannon huffed and scrambled for the beanie that had been left on her bedside table, jamming it down over her ears as quickly as she could. She hurriedly rearranged her robe and buttoned it closed, then realised she’d done the buttons up unevenly and groaned. She didn’t have the dexterity or the patience to redo them.

“Yeaaah, f-f-f-uh-fine,” Rhiannon slurred, still spitting her words a little as she struggled to speak through the changed teeth. She’d familiarised herself with the body changes a little since she had showered but had been too uncomfortable to do much – the body hair was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. And she planned to tell the team anyway, because she really wanted to play Quidditch. Today was the only game she’d missed all year and she did not plan for a moment to miss any more.

The door creaked open, and Madam Pomfrey protested as a rowdy and indeed quite muddy collection of students - in sports robes that to Rhiannon looked a swampy green edged with gold - piled inside. That definitely wasn’t right, because this was the Gryffindor team, and Rhiannon groaned as she realised she must have her wolf eyes. Just as Madam Pomfrey had said, Faye and Ron were with them while Alicia wasn’t there at all. Rhiannon dimly recalled something about work experience

and felt a twinge of regret that she planned on sharing this without one of her teammates there.

Rhiannon turned to face the Quidditch team and, ignoring Callie’s mra-aooow of complaint as she was shoved unceremoniously aside, leapt out of the bed. Ron had only a moment’s warning before she bowled over to him and hugged him fiercely around the middle. Ron grunted and patted her head a little awkwardly, then chortled as Rhiannon squished him tighter and wiggled happily. “Oof, princess, lemme go, I can’t breathe!” he spluttered and Rhiannon withdrew guiltily, hanging her head. Her tail flicked back and forth underneath her robe, she sat back down on the bed to hide it.

“Sorry I muh-m-m-missed the game,” Rhiannon mumbled, and put her hand down behind her to try and immobilise her irrepressible tail. The team settled themselves on the chairs ranged about the room, and Oliver Wood dismissed any further apologies with a wave of his hand.

“No worries. We all know how dedicated you are, it’s the first game you’ve missed all year – had to happen sometime.” he reassured her, and sat down on his chair so his legs were either side of the backrest and he rested his arms on top of the same. “Not to put too fine a point on it though... you look a bit of a fright. What’d you do to yourself?” Oliver asked her.

Rhiannon shared an uncomfortable look with Ron, while Fred and George struggled vainly to repress their giggles. Actually telling people her secrets was a new thing for her – every time she had meant to, it had been taken out of her hands. So she considered her words carefully before she spoke. There’d be no point in lying to them, it would just insult their intelligence. So Rhiannon clumsily unbuttoned her robe, and fidgeted with the edges of her beanie.

“I, well... I did something k-k-kind of stupid and forgot about another thing,” Rhiannon hedged awkwardly. Oliver raised an eyebrow, and she huffed a sigh. She’d been right – she wasn’t a skilled liar, anything she might make up would only be an insult to her friends. “I’m a w-we-rrr-wwwuh- godfuckingdamnit,” she spluttered, red-faced and losing her patience as she tripped over the shape of her words. Oh, swearing worked, but not what she actually wanted to say! “Werewolf.” she managed at last.

The entire team stared, and the room felt too quiet all of a sudden. Rhiannon looked away from them and scratched Calypso’s ears, and was comforted when the cat’s soft rusty purrs rose to fill the uncomfortable quiet.’

Predictably, it was the Weasley twins who broke the silence. They looked at eachother and snickered, obviously having some silent conversation. Fred grinned broadly, and reached out to pluck Rhiannon’s beanie off. She growled at him, but he guffawed when her ears pricked up out of her hair. “Oh, should’ve known it was destiny when she caught that Snitch in her mouth,” he wheezed with laughter.

George on the other hand was mock-serious. “Rhiannon, you’re a werewolf, not a swearwolf,” he admonished her sternly. Rhiannon stared at him, and he stared back innocently. Then they both burst out laughing and Rhiannon fell back against the bed as tears streamed from her eyes and she wheezed for breath through her helpless giggles.

Angelina cackled outright, and Faye was red in the face. She pointed at Rhiannon mock-angrily. “You’re telling me I missed out on- four months worth of jokes?” she yelled. Her voice peaked and she bent over coughing, then her coughs turned to laughter and her shoulders still shook with it as she sat back up.

Rhiannon hugged herself and wiggled in place, a broad grin spreading over her face. They had reacted just as she had hoped. She’d known they would, of course she had – the issue had been her readiness to tell someone rather than fear of their reactions as such. But it was still a good feeling that they were supportive.

Oliver’s reaction was a little more reserved than the rest. “Can you still play?” he asked, ever-practical. Angelina punched him in the arm, he glared at her. “What? It’s a valid concern!”

Rhiannon nodded eagerly, before he’d even finished speaking. “Yuh-ye-yes,” she said adamantly. Ron opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head hurriedly. “Really!” she slurred, trying to reassure him in a hurry. “Jus-ssss’ – put me back on Seeker, I’ll stay out of t-tuh-tr-trouble, please let me play,” she begged, turning pleading eyes on Oliver. She didn’t realise it but she had sat bolt upright and her fuzzy ears pricked up and flopped over at the tips. She did notice her tail wagging, and groaned as her cat swatted bad-temperedly at it. “Nooooooo, Callie!” she groaned, and flopped over on the bed to dissuade the cat from her antics.

Oliver grinned, unable to hold out further. “Well, I’m not so cruel as to take a ball off a puppy,” he relented. Faye snorted, Rhiannon wished she could sink into the bed and vanish. “I’ll talk to Pomfrey, I assume she’s got precautions in place if you’re to play – those eyes stick out a bit, and I doubt you’d be able to manage the Quaffle with your great mitts there. Ah, but it’s fine – and you can still try it in practice.” he assured her, as she puffed up indignantly at the teasing.

Angelina rubbed her hands together, grinning evilly. “Oh, no wonder you’ve been so much more confident this year... I can’t wait ‘til you’re telling people, the other teams won’t know what hit them,” she said.

Rhiannon blinked, as she struggled to process what Angelina had said. Telling people? But... she would, she realised, Angelina was right. Not yet. Not now. But someday. She didn’t know enough yet to make a real case of it, but she was Rhiannon Potter, the Girl Who Lived... she could do a lot if people knew what she was. Just not until she was confident enough to control the narrative.

Rhiannon nodded hesistantly, a shy smile spreading over her face. “Nuh-not yet,” she replied hastily, before anyone got too carried away with the idea. “But... that does sound k-k-uh-kind of fun. It’s why I’ve been having to hold back all year.” she said, with a whine in her voice.

Fred snickered. “You know, if it turns out you like girls, you are never going to have a problem getting a girlfriend,” he commented dryly. Rhiannon stared at him, then grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it as her face grew very red and her brain crowded up with unfamiliar and embarrassing thoughts. She didn’t realise in doing so that she’d now effectively given her tail free rein, and groaned again, mortified, as it wagged blithely back and forth and the team cackled mercilessly.

They bantered back and forth for a while until Madam Pomfrey came back and announced that Rhiannon’s other friends were here to see her, and so would the Quidditch team kindly clear off and take their mud with them? Ron and Faye protested, but Madam Pomfrey was inexorable in chasing them off, and Rhiannon promised hastily to catch them up on whatever they discussed. “You know more than I do about what happened,” Rhi told them when they still protested, and eventually they relented and allowed themselves to be shooed out of the room.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, and siphoned the mud from the floor with her wand. “Tergeo, scourgify... Teenagers, honestly,” she grumbled, though her tone was affectionate rather than genuinely irritable. When she was done, she let in Rhiannon’s other friends – Hermione, Dudley, Neville and Luna - and closed the door behind them, leaving them to talk in peace.

Hermione was the first to move. She scooted her chair close to Rhiannon’s bed and touched her friend’s face with a shaking hand, then lightly touched the furry ears where they poked out of Rhi’s thick hair. She giggled as Rhiannon let out a low growl, almost a purr, at the sensation, and the rest of them relaxed a little. “Are you okay?” she asked, her words a little stiff and hesitant. Rhiannon knew what she meant – it was obvious she wasn’t okay, but they rarely needed exact words to talk to eachother. They were more a code than anything else.

“’m okay, now,” Rhiannon reassured her, a little muzzy with warmth and comfort. She found it was easier to speak if she didn’t try anything particularly complicated, and her friends were forgiving of the odd slur or stammer. “Wh-what, happened? I don’t remember much... I think I knocked someone over? A-are they okay?” she asked anxiously.

This time it was Dudley who responded, with a groan. “Barely,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands as he covered his face with them. “You just about gave poor Ginny a bloody heart-attack, knocking her down like that... what were you even on about? You kinda sniffed her all over, in her pockets and stuff.”

Rhiannon flushed, and hid her face in her pillow again. “Don’ remember,” she mumbled, too embarrassed to look at them. “Only remember... bits. Emotion stuff, impressions. Something smelled – bad. And... cold – someone was cold?”

Dudley removed his hands from his face and straightened out his hair, nodding distractedly as he did so. “Yeah, you ran face-first into Myrtle. She was really lovely about it all, actually, we should go back and thank her... and apologise for chewing on her bathroom fittings.”

Rhiannon had been just starting to uncurl from her pillow when the second part of Dudley’s statement registered with her. She yelped and dove back into the pillow, and her friends snickered as her tail drooped and lay flat against the bed with its’ end twitching. “Did I really?” Rhi asked him, mortally embarrassed.

Dudley nodded solemnly, then a grin broke across his face and his shoulders twitched with laughter. “Oh, god yeah... I think you were freaking out about the lack of space? And Myrtle got you to look up and see it wasn’t so small in there, and then you started chewing on the tap,” he said, his eyes welling up with tears of mirth.

Automatically, Rhiannon fumbled around on the bed for her chew ring and gummed on it as she tried to recover from the teasing. “’s nice,” she grumbled when they looked at her.

Eventually they settled down from teasing Rhiannon, and got to the more important matter at hand. “Are- are the others all good? Tracey, Heather ‘n stuff... I don’t remember. And – did you get anything?” Rhiannon inquired of them.

Neville grimaced and shrunk in his seat, Luna squeezed his hand gently. Hermione had been nodding as Rhiannon asked her first question, but shook her head glumly at the second.

“Nothing,” Hermione replied miserably. “Oh, Draco knows the Chamber’s open for sure. It was opened before. And his dad knows who’s doing it. But he doesn’t know anything past that. All we have is confirmation it’s targeting Muggle-borns. He singled out me and Dudley specifically, hoping it’d get us, but... he really doesn’t know anything. He even thought it was you, Rhi, before there was an attack while you were at home.”

Rhiannon chewed on her ring – already it was beginning to show wear. “Tha’s not totally nothing,” she mumbled through it. “Confirmation’s not nothing.” The th sound got a bit lost through the silicone ring, turning into more of an F sound. “Or- how d’you know he wasn’ lying?” she asked curiously.

Now it was Luna’s turn to speak. They beamed at Neville, who blushed but sat upright in his seat. “Neville grabbed a scoop of potion and some of Hayley’s hair, and we charmed his robes to look right. He went with Hermione to talk to Draco, I went with Ron and we talked to some of the others in the house to make best use of the hour we had. Nobody knows anything concrete, not even Draco – Neville’s pretty good at figuring out when people are lying or hiding something because he listens. It’s happened once before and we know who it’s targeting but that’s all. It’s the Heir of Slytherin all over again but nobody in Slytherin house knows anything, which means whoever we’re after, they’re being incredibly secretive.” he explained.

Rhiannon whistled, impressed – or at least, she tried to whistle. It came out a thin whispery howl sound, and once again her friends burst out laughing. When they had calmed, she grinned at Neville and shook her head, amazed by her quiet friend’s courage. “I couldn’t turn into a boy,” she told him frankly. “Didn’ you get all, skin crawls and bad?”

Neville nodded emphatically, and shuddered. “Hhhh-had to. Learn.” he said haltingly. Luna patted his hand reassuringly and shook her head when he looked like he would have spoken more.

“Thankyou,” Rhiannon whispered, touched. “That- was... really brave. I don’ think I’d be that brave.”

Hermione shook her head, but didn’t press the issue. “You can’t go to classes like this, surely?” she said, though her statement turned into a question as Rhiannon glared at her.

“Gonna try,” Rhi said mutinously, to which Hermione could only sigh. From there they talked of lighter things, and Ron and Faye later returned with their misfit Slytherin friends and a very fretful Ginny Weasley, so Rhiannon could work on homework and apologies at the same time. The Slytherins were a little more withdrawn about the whole affair than the Quidditch team had been, especially as they had seen Rhiannon in the sort of near-feral state her panic had trapped her in. Ginny too was on edge, but to Rhiannon’s relief she was unhurt and even relaxed enough to pat Rhiannon’s ears, which amused them both. Rhiannon could smell a faint trace of that wrongness she remembered so vaguely, but it didn’t feel overpowering the way it had before – it just gave her a headache, and she pushed it aside when it began to hurt too much to think about it.

Madam Pomfrey came by later in the afternoon to shoo the friends away, much to Rhiannon’s dismay. As the girl whined and her ears drooped piteously, Madam Pomfrey was forced to relent and dragged in a second trestle bed so that one of Rhiannon’s friends could stay for ‘puppy-watch’, as they jokingly referred to it.

Rhiannon was also forced to endure another dose of wolfsbane, which Madam Pomfrey informed her she would need to take daily at morning and night until the full moon period had ended. Rhiannon growled and spluttered her way through it sullenly, but the fear of returning to that instinct-driven state that had been so frightened by a closed room ensured she took the potion.

Eventually, she and Hermione were left in peace – Hermione had volunteered for the first night of dogwatch, though she’d very nearly had to fight Ron and Luna for it. Eventually Rhiannon had to settle the matter by promising they could work out their own roster of who stayed with her, so long as Hermione could stay that night and if they could all stop arguing around her headache please.

“Was it bad?” Hermione asked quietly, seeing Rhiannon had gone quiet and stroked Calypso in the distracted way that said her mind was elsewhere.

Rhiannon nodded solemnly. “I- I could’ve killed Dudley. Or Ginny.” she whispered hollowly. “’s like... I wasn’t me, in there. I don’ even remember it right. What if – if I don’t have wolfsbane again, and I go like that on a real full moon?” she whispered, turning her tearful yellow-green eyes – a little startling in an otherwise mostly-human face – on Hermione.

Hermione nodded quietly, and twisted her hands together in her lap. “But you’d never hurt anyone. You didn’t hurt Hagrid – or Ginny even, really. Heather’s ankle will be fine, you barely nicked it.” she tried to reassure Rhi, who shook her head tearfully.

“I w’s a monster,” Rhi whispered, and chewed on her knuckle as tears rolled down her face.

“But it wasn’t you,” Hermione said repeated stubbornly.

“What else would you call it? It was me, ‘cos I didn’t think and I took a potion and messed it all up!” Rhiannon yelled, disturbing the cat. Callie growled at her and jumped off the bed, then took herself to sit with Hermione instead. That was the final straw, and Rhiannon drew her knees up to her face and cried into them. Hermione shifted awkwardly, wanting to get up and comfort her friend, but Rhiannon shook her head and wouldn’t stop until Hermione reassured her no, she’d stay away, it would be alright.

“It wasn’t you. You’re my best friend, who when faced with a really big three-headed dog monster just wanted to save it. If you think that was a monster, then I know it wasn’t you. Rhi, you’re four foot seven and you cried when we found a dead hedgehog in the garden, I think you have this idea in your head of something a lot bigger and scarier and you just... aren’t.” Hermione told her, gentle but firm.

Rhiannon sniffed and wiped her face, and slowly she relaxed her legs back into the cross-legged seat she had been comfortable in before. “You- really, think so?” she whispered hoarsely. “After- you saw, that?”

Hermione nodded adamantly, and reached across the space between their beds to squeeze Rhiannon’s hands for a brief moment. Rhiannon refused to let go, so instead Hermione got up and sat down on Rhiannon’s bed. Calypso sprawled out on Hermione’s bed with a grumpy meow, which they both laughed at.

“The semantics of whether or not that was you aren’t important... philosophers have argued that for centuries. If you say it was a monster, then to me, it wasn’t you.” Hermione told her softly. “And maybe it shouldn’t share your name either.”

Rhiannon blinked, taken aback by the sudden change. A new name, for the wolf... “Could I?” she murmured thoughtfully. “What’d I even call it?” she wondered aloud. Thinking of the other side she remembered only briefly, the wolf-who-wasn’t-quite-Rhiannon and shared only snippets of Rhiannon’s strongest memories, she shook her head and recoiled in fear.

“You’re scared of it.” Hermione said, and squeezed Rhiannon gently around the shoulders as the smaller girl nodded miserably. “So... name her something that isn’t so scary. It is a her, right?”

Rhiannon shrugged uncomfortably and nodded. “I guess – I d-d-duh-don’ think wolves think of stuff like that but... yeah, I guess.” she mumbled. “And... I can’t e-ex-’xactly call her Scary Black Bite Thing, can I?”

That, Hermione giggled at before she grew serious again. “You – and she – you’re black-furred, as a wolf? Like your hair?” she asked curiously. “Just ‘cos – I haven’t seen, yanno, not properly – just bits, and you were kind of half-Hayley when you came out of the toilet anyway.”

Rhiannon nodded absentmindedly. “Mostly – wolf eyes aren’ so good ‘t colours,” she replied. “Think there’s some browny bits, and white where my – scars – are.”

“I wish I could see,” Hermione sighed quietly. Rhiannon stiffened, Hermione shook her head hurriedly. “Only when – if – you’re ready. It just sounds, kind of beautiful, I guess... wolves were one of the things I was really into when I was little. I was so disappointed when I found out wolves have been extinct in Britain since King Henry VII.”

Rhiannon huffed a small laugh, both amused and surprised by Hermione’s perspective. She hadn’t ever really thought of herself as beautiful, but especially not since the attack. She had started to grow more comfortable in both her shapes, so getting stuck in this half-way that to her could only be described as ugly and even a little frightening - that was a setback in her progress, and she appreciated Hermione’s interest, it gave her confidence. “I’ll... get Hagrid t’ take a picture for you,” she offered shyly. “He’s got a camera somewhere.”

“That would be – thankyou,” Hermione replied, a faint blush rising in her cheeks was visible to Rhiannon as a sort of greenish cast to her deep bronze skin. She shook herself and returned to the issue at hand. “But if she’s not you then – Epona? Another form of the goddess Rhiannon... no, she’s a horse goddess, that doesn’t make sense. Hess? No, Hestia’s a home-guardian, that’s your thing and Hestia’s not scary... um... what about Nyx?” she mused.

The first two suggestions, Rhiannon agreed – they didn’t fit. But the third... she shivered, and pushed down the little approving growl. “Nyx – works,” she mumbled, and shivered. She rubbed at her eyes and yawned, Hermione squeezed her again.

“You want to nap and listen to a book ‘til dinner?” Hermione asked, to which Rhiannon nodded sleepily and snuggled into Hermione’s shoulder. “Well you gotta let me go so you can lie down,” Hermione said. Rhiannon shook her head and wrapped her arms around Hermione’s waist, mumbling something about “comfy squishy friend stay.”

Hermione sighed and stroked Rhiannon’s hair, provoking a mumbly purring growl again, and shifted – with much protest from the stuck-on werewolf – to lean against the bedhead and pillows so that Rhiannon could curl up and use her stomach as a pillow. They settled down on the bed and Hermione levitated the book over from where it sat on her own bed, and went to start it reading with their usual spell. Rhiannon grumbled and squeezed Hermione, shaking her head.

“You read,” Rhiannon said sleepily. Hermione blinked, and made a small questioning sound in her throat, Rhiannon shook her head again. “Like hearing your voice, in your chest. Comfy.” Hermione flushed, though Rhiannon couldn’t see it, and propped the book open against the top of Rhiannon’s head. The edges of the open book tickled the wolf-girl’s ears and she giggled at the sensation, though soon fell silent to listen quietly to Hermione’s soft, hesitant voice reading through Emperor Mage, the third book after Wild Magic, the book they had read together in the holidays. Rhiannon didn’t feel up to reading the exact sequel – Wolf-Speaker – yet, they would come back to it. Rhiannon fell into a peaceful slumber against her friend’s chest, her dreams worried by stalking shadows and growls but lit by the persistent warmth that was her friends and their support. She’d live out this particular error none the worse for it, dreams and all.