Hogwarts Reimagined

Content warning - fantasy bigotry, round-about attempt of outing, intentional misgendering

If anything about the whole mess was fortunate, it was that it had been the last game of the term, and Rhiannon had plenty of time both to recover and to find a new broom. Some students wanted to know why Headmaster McGonagall hadn’t stopped her fall completely, but Rhiannon was just glad the damage wasn’t worse. She had fallen from over a hundred feet, and all she had to show for it were cleanly broken bones that Madam Pomfrey had healed easily, some sprain damage to her muscles, and a concussion. She’d have been much worse off had someone less knowledgeable and experienced than Minerva attempted to stop her freefall sharply, she knew enough about physics to know that.

So Rhiannon limped into the last weeks of the first term with a miserable spinning head, aching muscles and damaged joints. Just as Ginny had said it would, the weather got steadily colder and the castle was blanketed in fog. Rhiannon could smell the oncoming snow in the air, and the dormitory fires, lit every night, couldn’t quite banish the chill that clung to the stones of the castle, and she found herself longing for the company of her friends and even more, to her embarrassment, the physical company of Hermione or Luna. She didn’t believe in the idea of there being something more than friends, what could be more than friends? But the idea of something else... maybe, maybe, she was feeling something else for them. And that something else made her body, with all its’ new changes, a very uncomfortable place to be as winter set in.

Today was a Saturday, the 6^th of December and almost the end of the second-to-last week at Hogwarts. The cloud cover was heavier than ever and the cold sank right into the stone foundations of the castle and from there, into the bodies of the students, who were all weary and impatient with so little left of the term. Even the teachers seemed worn out, and the day’s early classes were a slog save for the private lesson with McGonagall. Harry Pace was the newest member of their small class, as Dumbledore refused to refer to them correctly in the main class. McGonagall walked them through the beginnings of theory on using transfiguration and enchantment to create contained dimensions, such as the fantastical Newt Scamander’s case which he used to run his magical creature rescue. Hermione was fascinated and immediately began drawing up plans to build her own projects, while the rest of the class were admittedly out of their depth. But it was fun to learn about the practical applications of a subject that could seem completely impractical at times, and Rhiannon enjoyed listening to Hermione ramble about creating bottomless bags and forests in boxes, and the other incredible things they could do with the field of magic.

Care of Magical Creatures was a slog, compared to Transfiguration. They were working with Bowtruckles, making sure they had shelter now that their trees were leafless and frozen. The Bowtruckles, unfortunately, took great exception to the presence of a werewolf in their forest, and as soon as Rhiannon approached them the little creatures flung themselves at her scratching and shrieking furiously. Eventually, hair in disarray and with several new scrapes on her face and hands, Rhiannon had to retreat from the practical section of the class and take notes instead.

After that, in Runes, even Professor Kjartanson was clearly bored and let them work on their own projects in class time. Rhiannon and Hermione, along with Kellah and Neville, worked together on their communication device idea while the rest of the class pursued their own ideas, theories and projects, or simply studied if they were not creatively inclined. In Arts, Rhiannon puttered away on a borrowed electric bass, the instrument connected magically to a headset that blocked out the classroom noise and let her focus on her practice. She enjoyed the quiet rhythm of the instrument, enjoyed how when played through an amplifier it resonated deep in her chest. But she was too shy to play it where others could hear, at least for the time being, and much too shy to sing along. Still, she liked the practice, and liked gradually getting better at something that she didn’t have a natural advantage at. Every bit of increasing skill was something she’d made herself, and that was satisfying. Hermione occupied herself with a violin, and though Rhiannon couldn’t hear her friend playing she could see how steady Hermione’s fingers were as she played, how neat and correct her bow was, and was sure her friend had found her own talent. Rhiannon didn’t miss the dreamy smile on Hermione’s face as she played either, and it lifted her heart to see her friend having found something to seek peace in.

Their final class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Generally that was a highlight, but with the full moon only two days away there was no guarantee that Professor Lupin would be their Professor. So far fill-ins had included a very odd witch named Ms. Montgomery who deviated entirely from Lupin’s curriculum that focused on Dark creatures and safe coexistence to work on defensive spells and curses instead; and an exceptionally boring man named Mr. Ollivander, a much less interesting relative of the wandmaker, who refused to handle a single practical lesson and worked entirely from their theory books, which Lupin had set and then never used; and at times even the Headmaster herself.

“Who do you think we’ll get today?” Ron asked, leaning over Hermione’s desk to chat to Rhiannon. Neville, on Rhiannon’s other side, shrugged and looked distinctly nervous as he doodled on the inside cover of his theory book.

Samfeyo, Aeden and Lavender were seated behind them, and they all shared a scowl and a shrug. “Here’s hoping it’s Prof Lupin,” Aeden grumbled, and the whole class muttered their agreement. Hermione didn’t reply audibly, but Rhiannon caught an anxious glance from her friend, who then hurriedly looked away when she caught Rhiannon watching. Rhiannon hoped the same, but with teachers needing to turn time to handle all their classes and this being the full moon period, it wasn’t overly likely. He had to pick and choose which of his twelve thrice-weekly classes to teach during that time, and he couldn’t show favouritism in which he chose.

“Anyone, so long as it’s not-” Rhiannon began, only to be interrupted by the clatter of the classroom door being thrown open. In strode none other than the man who wore his ill temper like a personal storm, and whose classes Rhiannon suffered through with particularly strong audiminus jinxes cast on her ears. Professor Snape, better known as Dumbledore’s right-hand man and Neville’s worst fear.

“Books out, all of you. Professor Lupin has left no record of his curriculum, so we will be beginning with something... relevant.” Snape told them, as he took Professor Lupin’s usual place behind the desk at the head of the room. With a flick of his wand, a previously unused projector screen unrolled from a hook in the ceiling and a very old-fashioned mechanical projector device dropped down from a hatch. ‘We will be beginning our class today on w- Granger?” he asked, glaring at Hermione who had raised her hand.

“Ndiaye-Granger,” Hermione corrected him sharply, to which Snape rolled his eyes and waved a hand. Her nostrils flared as she breathed deeply, visibly containing her temper. “Professor Lupin’s had us working on Dark creatures, peaceful coexistence and that. We’ve been working from the ground up – Redcaps, Kappas, Boggarts, Doxies, Grindylows... we were due to start on Hinkypunks next.” she informed him in a flat, measured tone that Rhiannon recognised as the one Hermione used when she was anxious and angry all at once.

“I did not ask for information, Miss Granger, I was merely commenting on... Professor Lupin’s lack of organisation. Five points from Gry- Miremark, and don’t interrupt again.” Professor Snape told her sharply, and folded his hands on the desk in front of him.

Dean stood up and slapped his hands on the desk in front of him, commanding the class’s attention. Aeden leaned across and tried to pull him down, but Dean shook him off. “Professor Lupin’s the best teacher we’ve ever had,” he retorted boldly. The class murmured their assent, all scowling at Snape. Rhiannon bit back the growl that rose in her throat, and clenched her fists underneath the desk.

“You are easily satisfied and a long way behind,” Snape replied coldly. “Your previous education has been... mixed, at best, and I would expect first-years to be able to deal with hinkypunks and redcaps. Boggarts are closer to your level, but from what I heard you failed

, spectacularly. So we will be working on something simpler, and more relevant in any case. Turn to page three hundred and ninety four, and, Mr. Potter, tell me what we will be working on.”

Rhiannon ground her teeth as she flipped through her copy of The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lupin’s set text for the year. Page three hundred... they had been working around the first hundred pages. Snape was in part right – they’d had little consistent education in the subject their first two years at Hogwarts, and they were behind. But they couldn’t just skip ahead – Lupin had been working on building a strong foundation for them to build from, with plans to move ahead in the later two terms. It was a perfectly reasonable strategy, and Snape’s choice to deviate from it couldn’t mean anything good for them. It wasn’t about teaching them, this was about something else... and her heart sank as she turned the page to see what. Werewolves. That was the heading on page 394. And that was Professor Snape’s agenda.

“Well, Mr. Potter? What is it?” Professor Snape asked, a vicious little smile curling his lips as he looked across the classroom at her.

Rhiannon bit back another growl, and clenched her fists as she felt the hair on her arms prickle. “Werewolves, Professor Snape.” she replied, unable to keep the last trace of a growl from her words. It was unlikely he knew about her personally. And though he hated her, he had little motivation to expose her publicly like this even if he did know. No, this was something else – and she’d noticed his animosity with Professor Lupin even before that one time he had delivered Wolfsbane potion to his office. He knew, about Professor Lupin, and he knew that he would lose his job if he exposed him publicly. So he was trying to clue the students in, make them think about Professor Lupin’s absences and his illnesses. He was trying to expose Professor Lupin without exposing himself, and Rhiannon couldn’t stand it.

“That is correct, Mr. Potter, thankyou. Today we will be covering werewolves. Identification in both forms, distinction from regular wolves, variations in shape, behaviour and habits... dangers, and how to... counter those dangers, to terminate the creature.” Snape announced calmly, and another flick of his wand set the mechanical projector to clicking and clanking until finally a horrific image of a young woman half-way through a transformation.

Rhiannon lost her patience. Snape was blatantly attempting to expose Lupin, and she couldn’t sit here for another hour and listen to him do it. She slammed her book closed and shoved it into her bag, which she then swung over one shoulder. She stood up and shoved her chair back so fast it fell over, leaning on her desk and cane for support.

“Mr. Potter, fifteen points from Gryffindor, sit back down.” Snape hissed. Neville grabbed Rhiannon’s hand and she felt a surge of guilt, but she couldn’t stay in this class and listen to him endanger her, Dudley and one of the best teachers she’d ever had. Everyone knew Lavender’s father was a werewolf now, and so much hate mail had started to pile up on her every morning that she’d leased a private box in Hogsmeade to filter it all and only receive what was safe. And Rhiannon had no doubt that Snape’s method of teaching was going to ony reinforce the mindset that sent her that hate.

“I will fucking not,” Rhiannon spat, anger cutting through the worst of her speech impairment though there was still a slight catch on the words. “I know what you’re t-t-t-tryin’ to pull, damn you, I’m not gonna sit here and listen to it. Anyone else with me?” she added, turning in a circle and gesturing with her free arm to the rest of the class. A number of her classmates, around fifteen in all including her closest friends, stood with her, all glaring at Snape. Clutching her cane in a shaking, clawed hand Rhiannon turned her back on Snape and strode from the room.

“Make that fifty, Mr. Potter!” Snape snarled after her. Angered, Rhiannon flipped her middle finger back over her shoulder at him, and Ron slammed the classroom door shut behind them all with a loud crash. Breathing hard, Rhiannon leaned heavily against the corridor wall, and Hermione crept to her side to take her hand. Three taps against the inside of Rhiannon’s wrist – can’t talk.

“Hey, it’s alright... I’m sorry I lost my temper and made this whole big scene.” Rhiannon murmured, leaning her forehead against Hermione’s chest. She felt as her friend took in a deep breath, and hugged her gently around the waist. “You wanna, come with me to see Lupin and just rest a bit? Snape’s got the c-c-c-classroom, so he’s probably in the Hospital Wing.”

Hermione nodded and tapped Rhiannon’s shoulder twice – yes. Rhiannon pulled out of the hug and looked around at the others. “Call it a f-free study break. I’ll ca-a-atch up t’ the rest of you before dinner, is that alright? Just, me ‘n Hermione need a bit.” she explained, managing a wry smile. Third year, with its addition of an extra period three times a week from 3:15-4:15pm, was wearisome even when she wasn’t time-traveling to do more of it. And when one started that extra period with a public walk-out... it was even more difficult than usual.

Ron reached over and squeezed Rhiannon’s shoulder. “Sure, I know you two need your rest time. I’ll see you later, Rhi. Sit with you at dinner, ‘mione?” he suggested, and shepherded the others out of the corridor with a wave back over his shoulder to Rhiannon and Hermione.

Rhiannon led Hermione by the hand down the corridors, keeping to a slow pace for ease and comfort. Hermione was mostly in a numb state, executing basic necessary tasks while showing little outward response to stimuli or conversation – shut-down. Rhiannon was intimately familiar with that state, and she’d seen it in her friends before. Another might have been impatient with Hermione, even Ron could be without meaning to, and she wanted to give her friend – if that was even the best word anymore - time to recover without the crowding worry of others who didn’t understand.

When they reached the hospital wing, Rhiannon helped Hermione into an armchair and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, then covered her knees with another. “You rest, alright?” she murmured. Then, feeling daring as she rode the remnants of her adrenalin high, she kissed Hermione’s cheek and hurried away to find Madam Pomfrey before she could think too much further.

Rhiannon found the nurse shuffling through medicines in one of the many cabinets arrayed around the room. “H-hey, Madam Pomfrey, two things,” she stammered, fiddling anxiously with her hands. Hermione had given her ring back, she found it and twisted it to calm her nerves. “Well, uh- three, ac-ac-a-t-t-tually. One – we had a bad class, Hermione’s in your armchair, c’n I get her some hot chocolate or something? And two, uh – I guessed Professor Lupin might be with you, could I see him? But um – not before I ask about the third thing.”

Madam Pomfrey closed the drawer of the cabinet she was working in, and turned to face Rhiannon with a smile. “Of course. Hey, Grace, would you mind making a hot chocolate please? I’ll take it to our patient myself, though – familiar faces are best during a shutdown, correct?” she asked Rhiannon finally, with a friendly gesture to the blonde girl helping her. Rhiannon nodded, immediately thankful for Madam Pomfrey’s understanding of the situation. Then the nurse gestured to a pair of chairs sit beside the cabinet she had been working in, and awkwardly Rhiannon perched herself in one while Madam Pomfrey took the other. With a wave of her wand, the nurse set what Rhiannon guessed to be a sound ward around them for privacy and leaned forward with her hands on her knees. “Now, the third thing?” Madam Pomfrey asked Rhiannon, gesturing encouragingly for her to continue.

Rhiannon chewed on her lip, considering the question. It had been on her mind for some time now, ever since she’d realised she couldn’t just avoid the issue forever. Whether or not she wanted the magi-medical transition Madam Pomfrey had offered her – to learn to accept her body, or to find a way to change it, make it closer to how she felt she always should have been? She knew by now that she would be a girl whichever route she chose, that there were trans girls who chose to live with the bodies they’d been given, that a body did not define her gender one way or another... but deep down, she knew she wanted that change. She no longer hated her body, and she didn’t want to change it out of hate. She just wanted people to see her as the girl she knew she was already.

“You- you said I could start treatment for um, hormones and stuff.” Rhiannon said, fiddling with her ring and bracelet as she struggled to order her words. “I, decided I wanted that.”

Madam Pomfrey beamed, and reached out to pat Rhiannon’s hands reassuringly. “I thought you might. It’ll take some time for me to figure out a formula that’s safe for you, and I’d like to give it another three months to get your testosterone to the right levels anyway, so – we can look at starting you on it around Easter, and talk about it more then? Now, with that sorted, I can take you to see Remus, he’s in one of the side rooms, I’ll take care of Miss Ndiaye-Granger in the meantime.” she replied cheerfully. She stood, and offered her arm for Rhiannon to lean on, which she took gratefully and the two of them made their way over to one of the side rooms. A knock at the door had it swinging open, and the face of a very worn-faced Professor Lupin appeared in the gap it left.

“Ah, Poppy, Rhiannon – how can I help you?” Remus asked warmly. Madam Pomfrey patted Rhiannon’s shoulder and bustled away, presumably to tend to Hermione, leaving Rhiannon standing in the doorway fiddling with her ring anxiously. “Oh, do come in Rhiannon, you’ve got to be as sore as I am, sit down,” he urged, opening the door to allow her in. He left it open a little and gestured to a chair, which Rhiannon sank into gratefully. “Now, what’s going on?”

“P-p-p-professor Snape’s taken over your class, he’s got them started on werewolves – how to identify them, kill them – Prof- Remus, he’s trying to out you!” Rhiannon burst out, wringing her hands as she felt her anger push its way up again. With what Snape was teaching, Lavender would run out of room in her Hogsmeade mailbox. Her dad wouldn’t be able to pick her up from the train for the holidays. And Professor Lupin – Remus – might have his whole livelihood stolen from him.

To Rhiannon’s frustration, Remus only sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry, Rhiannon, I had no idea who was going to take over the class. I’ll make sure it can’t be him again, and the class doesn’t have to do whatever work he sets. I’ll make sure I’m in class again by Tuesday to run damage control, especially for Miss Brown’s case... damnit, I knew Severus was far from professional but this is low even for him.” he replied wearily.

“You’re not – mad he’s trying to out you?” Rhiannon asked him. She wasn’t sure what she thought, it wasn’t her place to call him a coward, but it frustrated her that his only concern was for others, not for himself. Didn’t he care that this was clearly personal?

Remus shook his head. “No. I’m not even surprised, honestly. You may have guessed that he and I have history. We went to school together and there was an... incident, in which he was exposed to me on a full moon and very nearly killed. He has held a grudge because of that and... other matters, ever since.” he explained.

Rhiannon frowned, mulling over the issue in her head. If he’d been at school with Snape... that meant he’d been at school with her parents. And with Sirius Black. “P- Remus, did you know my parents, then? And Sirius Black?” she inquired impulsively. Contrary to her suspicion of him earlier in the year, he felt almost like family now. Enough that she was confident to ask something like that. Minerva, Hagrid, they were older. They’d known her parents as students, similar to how they knew Rhiannon herself. But Remus was different, if he’d known them as a peer. She’d accepted that she would never have her parents back – that they weren’t really her parents anymore, hadn’t been since they’d died, and she’d become her own person rather than a replacement for the gap they’d left in the world. But it would be nice to know them as more than just dead faces smiling at her out of pictures.

Remus’ brows creased together in a frown and he shook his head, smiling ruefully. “I did. I wondered if you’d ask. You remind me of them in some ways, but you’re – very, very much your own person. They’re where you came from, you’ve grown past that – but I understand wanting to know the start of it all.” he replied. Rhiannon breathed a sigh and smiled – he understood, of course he did. “Your father James was one of my best friends, and Lily and I were prefects together. Sirius... we were close. To find out it was him who did that to two of my best friends and to you... I spent a very long time thinking I was the monster hiding in their midst, so long that I didn’t think to look for another.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Rhiannon murmured. She guessed that Remus and Sirius had been together – while reading between the spoken lines was not her strength, Remus was much, much easier to read than a human. Guilt, loss and love that couldn’t quite be killed radiated off him in waves that washed over Rhiannon so strong she thought she’d be lost in them. “I – really. Sorry.” she repeated. They’d both lost people, whether or not Sirius Black had been the one to take their lives, but Rhiannon was protected from that loss by her youth. Remus had no such protection – he just had to live with it the best he could.

“H-how do you, spend the full moon? I’ve never found your scent out in the forest, or even in the hills.” Rhiannon asked, eager to change the subject.

Remus looked up at her, eyes wide and – yes, that was fear she could see on his face. He was afraid of the prospect. “No, God no! I’d never – the danger – no. I stay in my office, curl up under my desk, sleep it off.” he replied, shaking his head as he did so. Like he was trying to convince her he’d never hurt anyone, that he could control himself.

Rhiannon shivered and hugged herself, digging her nails in behind her elbows. “That sounds... horrible,” she whispered, thinking of how claustrophobia she would feel in such an environment. He denied himself even the sight of the moon, the fingers of the wind in his fur, grass or snow under his paws. A pack. That hurt, the idea of it hurt worse than what Rhiannon had guessed about him and Sirius and what he’d lost. “I don’t think it would be very nice to be a wolf in here,” the memory of Luna’s words echoed in her mind from the very first time they’d met. “You could – come with me and Hagrid instead.” Rhiannon offered in a rush.

Remus’ brown eyes turned misty, but Rhiannon could already see the rejection on his face. “I... no. No, I can’t. My friends and I, we were... pretty reckless about it in school and like I said, I nearly got someone – even if it was someone I disliked – hurt. I wouldn’t be comfortable with it, not yet.” he replied, though his tone was definitely wistful rather than sharp.

“M-maybe later, then. Instead, uh – why don’t you come to Yule with us? Me ‘n Dudley’s foster-dad, he’ll be fine with it. And it’s af-f-f-f-f-ter full moon, we’d all be back before the January one.” Rhiannon suggested. She understood not being comfortable being around others in wolf-shape, it had taken her a solid six months to be comfortable with her friends joining her. Maybe he’d be more comfortable with a smaller step first.

Remus looked up, knitting his fingers together. “That depends – who are you staying with?” he inquired, hope written plain on his face.

Rhiannon grinned. “The Lovegoods – Xenophilius and Luna. They took me and my brother in.” she replied cheerfully.

Remus’ face brightened, and he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “Xen! I knew him at school too, we did chess club together. You make sure to check with him, if he’s alright, I’d – I think I’d really like that.” he agreed with a yawn.

Rhiannon grinned and nodded happily, then took another look at him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and though his smile was bright, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was worn out and, if truth be told, so was Rhiannon herself. The lead-up to the full moon took a serious toll on a werewolf’s health and energy, even if one wasn’t time-traveling the rest of the time. “I’ll leave you be, rest and stuff... I bet-t-t-t-t-t-ter help Hermione b-back to her common room anyway.” Rhiannon said finally, and stood with a nasty series of cracks and clunks from both her knees. Leaning on her cane, she waved awkwardly to Remus and began to limp out the door, only to be stopped by a cough. She turned back, concerned, only for Remus to raise his hands quickly and shake his head.

“No, no, nothing to worry about. Just – thank-you, Rhiannon. You’re a kind girl.” Remus said. This time, his smile reached his eyes, though that dull weariness was still visible in them. Rhiannon returned the smile and shook her head, embarrassed by the compliment, then hobbled from the room to go and find Hermione, still smiling to herself as she left. She could recover from her concussion over the holidays, and she now had plans for Yule. All that was left was to bribe Fred and George to pick up gifts for her friends from Hogsmeade. Broken broomstick, Dementors and all, this year was still turning out not so bad.