Content warning: Lil smidgen of ableism and tactlessness - impact > intent, remember? It hurts. After that, there's use of a homophobic slur once and then good ol traumatic injury.

As it turned out, their first hurdle was to be getting at the recipe of the potion. The little crew of investigators met up with Luna, Neville and Parvati in the library only to find the recipe itself sealed away in the Restricted Section, and there was no good sneaking in to get that – the books were enchanted with Caterwauling Charms that would give away their presence unless they were authorised to take one out. There was no use attempting to sweet-talk the librarian into allowing them permission, so they were left to find another route – they couldn’t back out now, they needed more information.

Hermione found the solution to this problem, as usual. She had a knack for keeping her feelings to herself when she needed something, a useful skill given that the solution she presented was the least capable teacher in the school: Professor Lockhart. Outside class Hermione was the most critical of their teachers, but in class even Snape had little excuse to punish her, and she managed to talk Lockhart into granting them permission to get Moste Potente Potiones, the only book which contained a complete and workable formula for Polyjuice potion, out of the library restricted section. She spun him some tale about wanting to look further into methods he had used to transform some of the cursed creatures in his travels, and he lapped it up eagerly. Hermione relayed the story back to the others when she returned to them, grimacing at the tackiness as she mentioned his peacock-feather quill. Madam Pince was even less impressed, but permission was permission and reluctantly she fetched the book for them.

They had free access to the book for three weeks, but a quick look at the complex brewing method and ingredients for the potion told them it would take much longer. Parvati’s handwriting was the neatest of all of them, so she copied the recipe out – the book was spelled to prevent magical copying and it all had to be done manually. When she was done, they all had a chance to look through the original book and shudder at its’ contents.

The Polyjuice pages alone were awful, covered in inked illustrations of people mid-transformation. Rhiannon only shrugged at those and volunteered to be one of those who took the potion – she went through a worse transformation five nights a month, a change from human to human was nothing. It wasn’t as if she could say that given that so many of her friends didn’t know about her lycanthropy, but it was reassuring to her at least that she could do something to protect the others.

The rest of the book they flicked through and immediately discarded. It felt tainted, like the blood of the people whose pain it depicted was splattered on the pages, their fear-scent soaked into the binding. Rhiannon knew she was being irrational, but the book felt bad. Polyjuice Potion was the least of what it contained – the potions and spells anchored by them that the book detailed were clearly Dark magic even to the students’ untrained eyes.

Dudley was the most disappointed of all of them. “Most potent?” he scoffed, scowling at the book. “You wizard types seem to think that translates directly to ‘most dangerous’. Imagine all the powerful magic that gets skipped over because it doesn’t look deadly enough to you? Honestly,” he grumbled. He seemed to take the book’s lack of content as a personal betrayal.

With the recipe obtained and copied, the next hurdle they faced was actually brewing the potion. Some of the ingredients they had in their potion kits or could get easily from the Herbology greenhouses or elsewhere around the castle, others were rarer. “Boomslang skin? That’ll be hard to get – they’re a protected species now at least for wizards,” Luna commented quietly. They had settled in a lot better since the first difficult week, making friends with some of her housemates and gradually coming back out of the shy, reticent shell he had withdrawn into since xe first got on the Hogwarts Express and now tended towards the gentle, dreamy manner Rhiannon had seen from zim at home.

Luna wasn’t wrong – the skin of the African snake was nowhere to be found, even Luna’s father had no idea where to get any when they wrote to him. The bicorn horn the recipe also called for was even rarer, and they were left with really only one viable option: Professor Snape’s private stores. They had no doubt the Potionsmaster had the ingredients they needed, and he did sometimes let advanced students into the stores, but they were neither advanced nor in his good graces enough to do so. Predictably it was Faye and Ron who suggested just breaking in and stealing it. Hermione was understandably a little horrified, but eventually even she agreed to the idea – on one condition.

“If any of you get caught breaking any more rules, you’ll be out of here – especially you, Rhiannon, you know Snape can’t stand you,” Hermione said firmly. Rhiannon bristled, Ron scowled. “You’ve broken just as many as we have,” he replied grumpily. Hermione shrugged and sighed. “I’ve also got merit points to spare. Rhiannon’s got some too, but Snape doesn’t hate me quite the same. I could pull through. And there’s worse things than expulsion.” she said.

That exposed a flaw in her reasoning, one Rhiannon seized on immediately. “I – if, if it doesn’t matter we get e-ex-pelled, I could help,” she said hurriedly, then winced. That sounded too close to begging for her pride to handle. Hermione shook her head quietly, and Rhiannon resented the sympathy she saw on her friend’s face. Sympathy was too close to pity. “We don’t know when we’ll have a chance to get at the stores. It could be right on top of the full moon, and I know your bad arm gives out at other times too. It’ll be easier if I just go on my own, or Parvati goes if I can’t get at it.” said Hermione, her brow creased with anxiety.

Rhiannon frowned and looked down at her hands. The backs were webbed with fine silvery scarring and the nails chewed and ragged. She didn’t like what Hermione had to say but... that didn’t mean her friend was wrong. “Fine,” she mumbled, still a little resentful but she didn’t want to make a scene or put her friend on the spot. Or worse, be allowed to go and be the reason they failed.

So the matter was taken out of Rhiannon’s hands, though she was assured she’d know every step of the way. Rhiannon wasn’t sure she liked sitting on the sidelines, but she refused to dump her resentment on her friends and threw her restless energy into Quidditch instead. On November 3^rd she played her first game as Chaser, against Hufflepuff. Just as Oliver had said earlier in the year, they’d swapped players around and Rhiannon found herself facing Leila McCloskey playing Keeper, when she had faced the Hufflepuff captain the year before the other girl had also played Seeker. Curiously, Rhiannon looked around to see who the new Seeker might be, and George batted her very gently on the ear as he coasted past. “Head’s in the wrong bit of the game,” he teased her, and she shook herself. George was right – the Seeker didn’t matter, that wasn’t her job today. She squinted through the sleet and refocused on the game.

Playing Chaser for the first time in a real game was a challenge, one Rhiannon had been worried about, but the moon was new and the challenge was a welcome one. Chasing the Quaffle was not unlike chasing a stick on full moons, and unlike Seeking where she’d had to hold back, here there was enough action and change and obstacles for her to shine fairly, with a competitive edge as she’d always had but not an unfair advantage – there was just enough going on to keep her busy, too busy for overthinking or overdoing, it was direct competition, interaction with the other players and all running on pure teamwork. She loved it. The Snitch was one thing, she’d never forget the rush of her first Quidditch game, but Rhi grinned madly as she caught a wide pass from Katie and swerved around the Hufflepuff Beater Denise Foster to pass it to Alicia – she wasn’t so sure she wanted to give the job back, and something in the gleeful cackle she let slip as she dodged a half-playful shunt from one of the Hufflepuff Chasers told her teammates that too.

“Looks like Ange and I’ve got our work cut out for us keeping that spot!” Alicia called out as she swooped past Rhiannon, also grinning broadly. It was only teasing, Oliver didn’t like to cut committed players – if it really came to it and Rhiannon didn’t want to go back to Seeking, she’d probably swap with Katie Bell who’d shown aptitude for the position in practice though she didn’t play it today.

Gryffindor won the game by a comfortable margin. Not by a landslide, but enough to push them comfortably ahead in the interhouse tournament. Rhiannon even scored three goals of her own and assisted with several others, and she hugged Faye impulsively when she realised that her friend had been the one to catch the Snitch.

“Good game,” said a low, warm voice behind them. Rhiannon turned and flushed deeply when she saw the speaker was Cedric Diggory. His robes and pads marked him as the new Hufflepuff Seeker, and he was smiling warmly at the both of them. Rhiannon looked down at her boots, trying to repress the urge to say something that would embarrass her. His eyes were soft and brown, golden in the midday sunlight, and he had a dimple in his right cheek – just the one – and freckles sprinkled across his nose. She hadn’t really thought about that before and wasn’t sure why it mattered now. It felt like it did.

Oliver Wood and the Weasley twins rescued her from certain mortification, sweeping her up with them as they breezed past. “I knew it was a good idea!” Fred crowed gleefully, and Wood grinned. “I can’t say I was all that convinced to start with, but he’s right – good game, Potter. You too, Dunbarr, fantastic catch at the end there.” he added, as the rest of the team joined them and they headed off towards the changing rooms.

Rhiannon rode the rest of the week on that win, coasting cheerfully on the reprieve from pain the new moon brought. Even Defence and Potions classes were bearable if she kept her head down. But she soon ran out of this energy as the weekend arrived in force, and with it the reminder they would be playing against the Slytherin house team. They had the later game slot, after lunch on Sunday the 10^th. Rhiannon remembered the previous games with distaste. Most of the team aside from Fred and George had decent brooms, but the Slytherin team’s brooms outclassed all except Rhiannon and Oliver’s. The Gryffindor team were stubborn enough to make up the difference, but it made their matches against Slytherin a lot tougher than they would have been otherwise.

The morning of the 10^th dawned chilly and drizzling. The castle and its grounds were still soaked from the heavy rain on the wednesday before, though the rain cleared off a little before lunchtime to hang about as misty sheets instead. Rhiannon shivered as she laced up her pads in the Quidditch changing room, and stiffened when Oliver clapped her on the shoulder from behind.

“Rhi, we’ll start you off Seeking, but if it goes well you can swap with Katie. Faye, Ron, you can stay in the stands today unless someone gets injured, I don’t want to put new players against these guys this early in the year. I’ll talk to Madam Hooch and see if we can’t get some more good brooms for you and the twins on school funds, for fairness’ sake. Fred, George, do your best – speed’s not everything when you’re Beating, and you’ve a better eye for Bludger angles than Hux and Montague. Allie, Ange, Katie – you’ve got this, don’t let them wind you up – especially you Allie, we don’t need you getting fouled for whomping Warrington no matter how tempting it is. Alright everyone – mount up, we’re go in two.” Oliver said to all of them. Alicia grinned and cheerfully flipped him a middle finger as she grabbed her broom. Faye and Ron each squeezed one of Rhiannon’s hands – she was too nervous for hugs – and made their way out of the room to find a place in the stands, while Rhiannon herself straightened her robes and scraped her thick, unruly hair into a ponytail.

Rhi didn’t need her cane today, not really, but she’d brought it anyway. It was too suspicious otherwise. She retrieved her wand from it and slid it up her sleeve just in case – she didn’t like to be without it. Then, broom in hand, she crossed the room to join the others beneath the grate that would be their entry to the pitch. She swung a leg over her broom and hovered just behind Oliver in the Seeker’s position.

Rhiannon remembered only just in time to renew the muffling spells on her ears. She let the filter fall from her vision, but she knew from experience the din of the crowd would be overwhelming without the spells. She used the time in which she put her goggles on to alter the spells, then with that done she gripped her broom tightly with both hands, waiting for the starting horn.

The brassy, strident airhorn rang out through the stands and the grate creaked as it swung back. Rhiannon accelerated forward smoothly in time with the rest of the team, and they flew up in formation to circle the pitch. The stiff autumn breeze tugged at her cloak, but it was not so cold yet that she needed earmuffs or full-fingered gloves. Maybe she wouldn’t at all – this would be her first winter as a werewolf. She realised her mind was wandering and shook her head irritably, falling back into position as the team completed their circle of the pitch and Wood split off to take his position at the goalposts while the rest of the team lined up across the centre of the airspace above the field.

Rhiannon hovered in place behind the Chasers, flanked by Fred and George on either side. She caught brief glimpses of Draco Malfoy as they bobbed in the air, the blond boy’s face was set in grim concentration. She had to give him that – he was a decent flyer, even if he’d bought his way onto the team, and he did put effort in when they played. It didn’t make him anything of a good sport, but it was something.

Supported by Fred and George, Rhiannon ignored the Slytherins’ leering and pre-game smack talking. She was ready when Madam Hooch’s whistle blared out, loud even to her muffled hearing, and lurched up and backwards away from the rest of the players to avoid the initial clash for the Quaffle. Part of her wanted to get into the thick of it, she was little and surprisingly strong, she could do it, but that wasn’t her job this time. Her business was the Golden Snitch and Draco Malfoy.

Rhiannon pulled her broom up and levelled out into a low-powered glide, scanning the airspace for any glimpse of the Snitch. She didn’t want to catch it yet, they needed more points than the fifty it would bring right out of the gate. So she found her rhythm of scanning and staying just ahead of Draco Malfoy, ignoring his jibes and focusing on the game – that was the Seeker’s job.

“Potter, watch out!”

A low hum sounded in Rhiannon’s dulled ears and she barely noticed Angelina’s yell in time to roll out of the way as a Bludger shot towards her. “Thanks!” she yelled back once she’d caught her breath. She squinted up at the Bludger as it still sailed skyward. That wasn’t unusual. She kept an ear out for the other one, but still squinted at the one that had almost struck her. Something felt off about it.

Rhi began to feel a little silly hovering in midair as she did. “Alright there Scarhead?” Malfoy jeered, she didn’t dignify it with a response. She’d taken her eyes off the Bludger for a split second, and in that time it looped around and back, humming angrily as it shot straight towards her.

Rhiannon darted sideways, then pitched her broom into a steep dive back towards her teammates.

“F-fred! George! Got a stuck Bludger!” Rhiannon shouted at her teammates as she flew through, looping around the cluster of players in the hopes she’d lose the Bludger. No such luck – it swerved around and barrelled towards Rhiannon again. “Close one, Rhi!” said George, streaking past her with his club raised to knock the Bludger back at the Slytherin players.

Rhiannon saw George give the Bludger a powerful thump in Adrianne Pucey’s direction, but as soon as it was whacked away the heavy cannon-shot-like ball changed direction in midair again and came whistling wickedly fast towards Rhiannon. She dropped quickly to avoid it, and this time Fred hit it hard towards Malfoy, who was circling them and taunting. The Bludger didn’t so much as clip his broomstick – it just shot straight back towards Rhiannon.

Rhiannon forced her Nimbus into a steep climb, counting on the Bludger’s inferior aerodynamics to put some distance between it and her. She could still hear the Bludger behind her, and frowned. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; they were charmed to try and unseat and hinder as many players as possible... yet this one stuck to her like she and it were magnetised.

Someone had clearly tampered with it. She didn’t have enough time to figure out how to lift the hex, not when she still had it stuck on her tail. Maybe she could use it instead. Thinking, Rhiannon nudged the broom and it flattened out. She zeroed in on the goalposts, and a mischievous grin crooked up the edges of her mouth. The Keeper Miles Bletchley looked a bit too comfortable there, and the score was lower than she’d have liked. Maybe he’d like a Bludger.

Still grinning, Rhiannon urged the broom forward and with the Bludger in hot pursuit she arrowed towards the opposing goalposts. “George!” she yelled, and waved when he looked at her. “Making a gap, point Ange and Katie down here!” she added, and he nodded and grinned, waving back as she swooped past him. Rhiannon’s sights were now set on the Slytherin Keeper where he hovered just below the taller central hoop. She held the broom steady and lunged straight at him, playing a dangerous, high-speed game of chicken in midair.

The Keeper gave in, and rolled sideways. Rhiannon shot past him and pulled up just beyond the hoops, in time to see the Bludger clip Bletchley’s broomstick as it beelined towards Rhiannon. The Gryffindor team shot towards the goalposts in a red-and-gold pack, flanked by Slytherin Chasers on either side but with the Keeper out, they had a straight shot at the goal and Alicia lobbed the Quaffle through the right-hand hoop. The bell rang, indicating the goal had been marked.

“That’s only the second goal of the game for Gryffindor, off to a rough start but looks like it’s picking up – nice teamwork there, Potter. That puts Gryffindor twenty to sixty down.” Lee Jordan announced cheerfully, leaning out from the box to better see the game.

Rhiannon whooped, and nudged her broomstick off the looping path she’d kept to avoid the Bludger, in a straight shot towards the other end of the pitch. She gestured frantically at Wood, then the Bludger, then the ground. He got the message and called for time out, the command reinforced by Madam Hooch’s sharp whistle.

Rhiannon breathed a sigh of relief and made for the ground, where her teammates huddled in the middle of the pitch. Dull boos echoed from the Slytherin stands, they ignored them. Rhiannon dismounted, and as soon as her feet hit the ground the ball swerved away again to circle the pitch menacingly.

Oliver Wood’s face was red and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “We’re getting flattened out there! Something’s up with that Bludger; while you two-” here he nodded sharply to the Weasley twins – “were keeping it from murdering our Potter here, the other one stopped Ange scoring earlier. We need a change of plans.” he said, pacing back and forth as he spoke.

“Someone’s fixed it. We can’t take our eyes off Rhi, it hasn’t gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must’ve done something to it,” said Fred, equally frustrated.

Oliver shook his head and shrugged helplessly. “But they’ve been locked in Madam Hooch’s office, you know they don’t let us practice with the game balls for just that reason.” he said, throwing his hands wide as he paced. Behind him, Rhiannon could see Madam Hooch striding towards them across the pitch, and even further she could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in the direction of the Gryffindors. She shook her head and lifted her goggles off to wipe sweat from around her eyes.

“Be-be-between you two and the Bludgers, I’m not going to get a look in on the Snitch, and if – if we stop now, we forfeit the match and they win by default. We’re not enough points ahead to shrug that off.” Rhiannon said, and the rest of the team stared at her. She shrugged and leaned on her broomstick. “Swap me with Katie. I’ll run interference while she gets the game over with, keeps Fred and George near enough to the rest of the game to handle the other Bludger. Maybe we’ll even get a couple goals in, winning by ten points is still a win and still useful.” she added.

“Rhi, are you nuts?” asked Alicia, her voice worryingly calm. Rhiannon grinned a little crookedly, feeling the adrenalin surging in her veins.

Angelina frowned too, and shook her head, considering her words before she spoke. “Let’s ask for an inquiry, we won’t lose points if we can prove interference.” she added on to Alicia’s statement.

Rhiannon shook her head firmly. “I-i-f-if, we can prove it. I can handle it – put me in the main game and that Bludger’s going to be a pain to everyone around me too, including them.” she replied, then turned to face Katie, who nodded slowly and added her own contribution. “It’s not a stupid idea, Allie, she’ll be safer in the thick of the game – and we can use that stuck Bludger. Worked pretty good on Bletchley. We’ll have a better chance proving someone tampered if it doesn’t look like we’re trying to get out of losing, you know Hooch is sharp about that.” Katie reasoned.

The rest of the team nodded begrudgingly, and Rhiannon was adjusting her gloves and goggles when Madam Hooch reached them. “Ready to resume play?” she asked the team. They all took in the determined set of Rhiannon’s jaw and decided not to press her. “Ready,” Wood agreed stiffly. Hooch nodded, and Wood gestured for the team to mount up again.

Katie passed her gloves to Rhiannon, who stripped her own off and exchanged them for Katie’s. Chaser gloves were reinforced at the wrist and padded on the palms and textured on the fingertips for better grip of the Quaffle and protection of the joint – a lot more complex than the basic gloves Rhiannon wore for Seeking. She nodded her thanks and stepped astride her Nimbus, casting a worried glance skyward. The low thrumming whistle of the Bludgers was just audible as they passed by, but as Rhiannon shot into the sky one broke off and lurched after her, just as she’d expected.

She wasn’t quite fast enough, and had to jerk her broom to an upright halt in midair, which allowed her to change directions in a hurry while the Bludger narrowly missed her. It had the unfortunate side effect of looking a little silly. “Training for the ballet, Faggy Potter?” Cassius Warrington, one of the Slytherin Chasers, taunted her as he avoided the Bludger too. Rhiannon growled softly and shot off to where the other players clustered around the Gryffindor goalposts. Not good. She scanned the crowd, finding Adrianne Pucey with the Quaffle, flanked by Angelina and Alicia who fought for possession of it with her.

Rhiannon took one hand off her broom to put two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply, a trick Faye had taught her. It made a terrible noise indoors, but out here with her muffled ears it was bearable, and did precisely what she’d meant – everyone stared, including her own teammates. “Look out!” she yelled, and she forced the broom to an even greater speed with the Bludger trailing close behind, directly at the pack of players.

Players in red and green alike scattered, though as Rhiannon looped up and around she grinned, seeing her ploy had worked and the Quaffle was safely in Angelina’s hands and headed for the opposite end of the pitch. She swept up the field along with them and slowed a little so as not to outreach them, still keeping an ear out for the Bludger that was surely only a short way behind. “Keep it off Angelina and Alicia, I’ll handle Bletchley again. Get them to whistle if they want to pass to me, I won’t see it,” she shouted to George as she passed. He nodded and accelerated ahead to pass it on to Alicia, while Rhiannon stretched her Nimbus’ superior flying charms to their limits like she’d never had to before. She darted in and out, weaving around, through and over the mass of other players, hindering the Slytherin players so that gradually Angelina and Alicia could get ahead of them. Rhiannon smiled wryly as she looped over Marcus Flint’s head. He swore and dropped from the air to avoid the Bludger that sailed through in her wake, she giggled as he swore at her.

The adrenalin was almost intoxicating, she soared on it. The Bludger was just an annoyance, she’d been chased by much worse. It made her as good as untouchable, and her grin was a little evil as she faced down the Slytherin Keeper again.

He knew what was coming this time. But the Bludger was inexorable and his Beaters were too far away, they’d only crowd him anyway. Rhiannon whooped gleefully as Bletchley glared and dropped from the sky to avoid her charge for a second time, and swooped past to circle around and keep the Bludger out of her own teammates’ way. The bell rang, Gryffindor had scored again. That made thirty to sixty. Any time now, Katie, she thought, rolling out of the way of the Bludger that had caught up to her while she thought.

Rhiannon saw an opportunity in the form of the Quaffle, falling freely through the air behind the hoop her teammates had pitched it through. She kicked the broom into a shallow dive and accelerated, sweeping the ball up in her grasp and then pulling upwards steeply to avoid the Bludger that shot through at the low altitude towards them. She took a wide arc around the hoops, going straight across would put her offside and have the goal disregarded. It didn’t matter – with the Bludger in pursuit, the Slytherins hung back and she had a clear shot at the goal. It didn’t even take a staring contest for Miles Bletchley to clear out of her way. She calculated the angles as she drew nearer the goal, then rolled once again out of the way of the Bludger. She couldn’t waste time, she had the damn thing she needed to put it where it belonged.

Rhiannon took a deep breath to steady herself and, hearing the Bludger whistling up behind her again, she threw the Quaffle through the centre hoop. She heard the bell ring to confirm the score, and that bell drowned out the noise she needed to be listening for – the Bludger. It struck her outstretched right elbow and she lost track of the commentator’s announcement in the lightning-fractured haze of pain that swamped her. She might have cried out, might have groaned, she didn’t know, but instinctively she tucked her arm into her chest to protect it and that was her undoing. Weakened by the pain, Rhiannon lost her grip with her other hand and pitched sideways off the broomstick. She didn’t have the harness to save her this year, and she closed her eyes as if by refusing to see the danger she could save herself. Light flickered behind her eyelids, she squeezed them tighter.

Someone slowed her fall. She didn’t hear the incantation, but she knew the effect – arresto momentum, she’d seen it used for Quidditch falls before. Still, she struck the ground face down, landing on her weak shoulder but thankfully not her newly injured arm, and curled around it fighting to keep what little she’d eaten that day from spilling across the ground as her stomach clenched and revolted. Dim figures flickered against the light that filtered through her clenched eyelids, dull voices sounded in her ears more as vibration than anything understandable. Two sharp bell blasts blared out over the pitch – the Snitch had been caught.

“Dd-di-didddwewin?” Rhiannon slurred muzzily, pushing herself upright with her weak but uninjured arm. Now she sat in the mud, hunched around her injured limb. Someone crowded close to her and gripped the shoulder of that injured arm, she coughed and gagged and repressed the sudden violent urge to bite whoever did so.

“Did we win, she says! Yes, Miss Potter, ninety to sixty! Miss Bell caught the Snitch just after you fell. Oh, well done, very well done, almost as good as one of mine in my prime!” a loud voice, trained to a warmth and resonance it didn’t have naturally, boomed in her ear. Rhiannon groaned and tried to flinch away, but that was a mistake – Lockhart, for it was Lockhart, still had hold of her shoulder and in trying to extricate herself from him she tweaked her injury again and had to curl in against the flood of pain that brought singing forth through her nervous system.

“Nnnn-not you,” Rhiannon groaned, her words slurring together. She opened her eyes, blinking painfully against the too-bright light and the crowd of colours and faces. Her vision dulled around the edges and sparked, glitter pulsing in rhythm with the throbbing in her elbow.

“Doesn’t know what she’s saying, the poor brave girl. Don’t worry, I’ll have this fixed in a jiffy,” said Lockhart, though his words faded and vibrated strangely in Rhiannon’s ears. Rhiannon tried to protest, say that Madam Pomfrey would fix it just fine, but she couldn’t get the words out and her eyes fluttered closed again as Lockhart adjusted his grip on her shoulder.

“Stand back,” said Lockhart, through a rustle of fabric as presumably he flourished for effect. “Nnn-nuh-no, ddd-ddddo-don’-” Rhiannon protested weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand through the air, she could hear its’ movement, and she heard the faint whoosh of his spell as he directed it at her arm, though the incantation was lost to her.

A strange, deeply unpleasant sensation crawled up Rhiannon’s arm, starting at her fingertips and spreading out until it reached right up to her shoulder. It was not unlike the feeling of fur springing from her skin on the full moon, it itched and bit and burned but the sensation was wrong – instead of shifting, changing, the bones in her arm felt like they deflated. She didn’t dare look as she lost sensation in the arm itself. She couldn’t feel the distinct edges of it at all, not the shape of her fingers, instinctively she knew she couldn’t move it. The nerves in that arm itched and burned but there was nothing for them to connect to. It didn’t hurt exactly – at least not to Rhiannon, used to pain as she was. But nor did it exactly feel like an arm anymore.

“Ah,” said Lockhart. “Yes. Well, that can happen sometimes. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind – no break, no pain. So, Rhiannon my girl, just toddle up to the hospital wing – ah, Masters Weasley, would you escort her? - and Madam Pomfrey will be able to, er, tidy you up a bit.”

Rhiannon’s stomach turned over. Slowly, she dared to open her eyes, and then immediately wished she had not. Her fingers lay at strange angles inside her gloves, and her arm hung across her lap more like a rubber sleeve than an arm. She shook her head numbly, wordless, and dimly heard someone call for a stretcher. Fred and George talked to her quietly as they readied it, somewhere in the crowd she knew Hermione would be waiting anxiously.

“Alright, Rhi. Just sit tight, we’ll be as gentle as we can, we’re not making you walk up like this,” said George quietly. Rhiannon barely heard him, she just recognised his presence and she nodded, fighting a wave of dizziness that washed over her at the motion. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words turned into a gagging scream as the twins lifted her gently onto the stretcher someone else had laid out on the ground for them. She couldn’t feel bones anymore but her nerves were alive and shrieking agony and wrongness, more wrongness than even a werewolf was used to, and she collapsed as that black cloud that had been prickling the edges of her vision finally closed over her head and dragged her down into unconsciousness.