Content warning: Food, mention and discussion of fantasy ostracisation

Duelling Club was cancelled after the disastrous meeting on the sixth of December. The school had been a wary place since the Chamber’s opening and then the attack on Colin, now it was a suspicious one. People drew away from Rhiannon in the hallways, and stopped talking when she passed by. She had expected her lycanthropy secret to get out and for people to fear that, not for... talking down a panicked animal. It made no sense to Rhiannon. On top of that, most of Hufflepuff in particular were sharp with her. They accused her of asking the snake to attack Justin Finch-Fletchley, a muggle-born boy in her year. And she lost patience with the rumours when she heard that.

“My – my cousin’s muggle-born, my best friend is muggle-born, I’m as good as muggle-born! I was just trying to calm it down! And can’t you people get a better word than Muggle? It doesn’t even sound like a word!” Rhiannon snapped irritably at one group of whisperers as she passed them in the corridor. She returned to the common room in a bad temper that evening and sullenly buried herself in homework in a corner, to the concern of her friends.

“Was that it? What you told it?” Ron asked her, a little hesitantly. Rhiannon scowled at him, he held up his hands defensively.
“Yes, that’s what I t-t-old it, you heard me,” Rhiannon grumbled, a little put out. Her friends relaxed a little, but Faye and Ron still looked stressed, and Lavender was hovering nearby trying to look as if she were doing anything other than eavesdropping. “I can ss-s-see you’re listening, sit down – I only growl, I don’t bite,” Rhiannon added impatiently, then realised she’d been a little sharp. “Sorry. It’s not you I’m mad at. Not really.”

Lavender hurriedly dropped into a free space on the couch across from Rhiannon and looked awkwardly at Faye and Ron. Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples in frustration. “They’re all too scared to tell you. No, we didn’t hear you, we saw you looking like you wanted to attack Malfoy and then everything that came out, I guess you were talking to the snake – it was just hissing.” Hermione explained, looking a little irritated. “Really, we go to a magic school, of course some people can talk to animals,” she muttered.

Lavender shook her head, still looking nervous. “It’s not just talking to animals – snakes, it’s a bad omen. It’s almost considered a Dark Art on its own. It was his thing – you know. Salazar Slytherin. And they say You-Know-Who could do it too.” she replied, lowering her voice to a whisper.

Parvati leaned over, she had been studying in the armchair at right angles to Rhiannon. “That’s ridiculous,” she shot back a little heatedly. “British wizarding society, it has the silliest superstitions – why is a snake different to any other animal? My uncle wouldn’t have been questioned by the Ministry if he could talk to lizards, but as soon as it’s snakes people get all strange about it.”

Hermione nodded, clearly satisfied somebody else was thinking rationally. “It’s just an ability. Everyone’s taking it way out of proportion because of the Chamber of Secrets.” she agreed, trying to reassure Rhiannon.

Rhiannon couldn’t be reassured, she felt cold inside. “They- rea- they really think I would do that?” she whispered, angry tears stinging her eyes. “That I’d Petrify a cat and break her tail to hang her by it? That I’d Petrify a kid who just wanted to tell his dad how great this place was?” Her lips trembled, she pressed them together and clenched her hands in her lap.

Ron shrugged uncomfortably. “I mean... you don’t really like Mrs Norris. And everyone knows Colin’s been bothering you all term.” he replied, then raised his hands again when she glared at him. “I’m just saying! That’s what people are saying, anyway – and your cane, with the snake head, they were saying that should have given it away.”

Parvati rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. “The cane’s beautiful, and it looks very old. So no, it probably doesn’t help the case. But let’s not think that makes her anything other than someone who was given a nice cane because she needed it.” she said, her tone carefully level. She looked at Faye, Lavender and Ron in turn, all three looked away sheepishly. “It’s Rhiannon – Rhiannon Potter, who has the least to do with You-Know-Who of anyone.”

“That’s why they’re saying it,” Faye spoke up, red-faced. “They’re saying, maybe she was a Dark Wizard and that’s why You-Know-Who tried to kill her, how else could a baby survive the curse – and kill him?”

“It was the wards!” Hermione snapped back. “They killed Quirrell last year, when he attacked her! Her case was studied for Wizarding Heroes of the New Millennium, Dumbledore himself testified – her mother’s sacrifice, it created wards, they thought they relied on blood relation and that’s why they placed her with – them.” she trailed off stiffly and squeezed Rhiannon’s hand, glaring at their other friends.

“I read the book, same as you,” Lavender replied sharply. “Of course we don’t think she did it. We’re just saying, that’s why they think it.”

Hermione sighed, and Rhiannon squished closer to her. “Sorry,” Hermione mumbled apologetically. “I guess I’m just – stressed. And kind of mad about it.”

Parvati snickered and reached over Rhiannon to prod Hermione’s cheek with the feathery end of her quill. “And I’m sure Rhiannon appreciates the support, o valiant defender of her honour,” she teased, while both girls flushed. “This would all be solved if everyone just opened a book. Snake have different connotations across cultures. In, say, Hinduism, they represent healing and wisdom – Parseltongue is an important gift for us... hey, that makes sense Rhi, maybe you got it from your dad? I could swear I’ve heard of a Potter Parselmouth before. Anyway. In some Native American cultures they represent fertility in nature. There was probably a similar connotation in Ancient Greek culture too, certainly in their witchcraft – snakes are seen on the staff of the medicine god Aesklepios, and Hermes whose realm of influence was totally different again. In other parts of South Asia, they’re seen as guardians, and have important guardian roles in Buddhist historical legends.”

Rhiannon and her friends stared at Parvati, who blushed and realised she’d gone on a bit of a spiel. “Sorry – it’s just something I know a lot about,” she apologised, blushing. “Long story short – snakes equalling evil is a very narrow, uniquely British wizarding point of view, everyone’s being ridiculous so let’s not spread it further yeah?”

The others laughed with her and nodded their agreement, even Rhiannon was reassured – she hadn’t done anything except tried to calm a frightened animal, it wasn’t her fault people thought it was something else.. surely it should have been obvious, given she spoke to it and it went still? But fear overrode common sense, she knew that – she’d been the one to set the Wind charm to a leaf-litter fire – and she sighed, resolving to be patient and keep her head down until it blew over. Someone was hunting Muggle-born students and claiming they were the Heir of Slytherin. They needed to find out who, because Rhiannon knew it wasn’t her even if the rest of the school didn’t.

________________________________________________________________

With Hogwarts being such an unfriendly place, Rhiannon was relieved when a letter from Luna’s father confirmed that she, Dudley and Luna themself could all go home for the three-week holiday. So it was a week after the Duelling Club incident that they all piled back onto the Hogwarts express, cats and all, to go back to the Rookery that Rhiannon again surprised herself by thinking of as home. Hermione was frustrated at having to leave her Polyjuice project but her parents had promised they would have Christmas at the Lovegood house and she couldn’t back out now.

Rhiannon hadn’t experienced the coming-home feeling before, and she saw a similar look of wonderment on Dudley’s round face as their Portkey – “Legal, this time!” Xenophilius promised them mischievously – deposited them outside the house. Hermione’s family would come round the week after; for now they were on their own to rest and recover. And she welcomed the chance to just rest, in the tower-like house with its’ too many rooms and strange creatures in the nooks and crannies.

It was then that Rhiannon remembered when the full moon was – the nineteenth until the twenty-third, and Luna reminded Xenophilius of it at dinner. He slapped his forehead with his palm and groaned. “Oh, that’ll put a wrench in it... We don’t celebrate Christmas, I don’t believe in it, so we celebrate Yule instead and that coincides with the full moon – solstice, the 22^nd. It’s alright – Rubeus will be around tomorrow or the next day, and I’ll send Raya with a message for the Grangers... I suppose we can just celebrate Yule a little late, it’ll be fine.” he reassured them, and got up from the table in a hurry to go and send a message with the owl.

With the full moon came the first real snow of the year – there had been showers before but nothing that stuck to the ground. There was a persistent frost on the ground when Rhiannon went outside to check Xenophilius’ mismatched flock of chickens on the morning of the 19^th, and a damp heaviness to the air that signalled snow. Rather than being an inconvenience as it was when they played Quidditch, the snow was an exciting prospect to the two young werewolves – a new experience. Rhiannon supposed perhaps it was a good thing they were home for these holidays – familiar scenery at this time of year could too easily have trapped her in the memories of unicorn blood on the leaves. She shuddered at the thought and turned away from where she stood with her face pressed against the kitchen window, a spring in her limping step throughout the rest of the day.

She wouldn’t have voiced as such, but she was excited for this transformation and longed for the day of the 19^th to slip away. Christmas Quidditch was all well and good, but what was better than the excuse to roll around in the snow? And she was sure Dudley felt the same – he had a dreamy grin on his face as he washed the dishes. Luna looked a little envious and left out, but they didn’t push the issue – Rhiannon had been adamant on keeping her friends away when she transformed, though there were times she did faintly regret it. But Hagrid was immune and they were not, and she couldn’t risk that.

Rhiannon almost regretted being a responsible person – did a werewolf count as a person? She felt like a person, non-people probably didn’t worry so much – as she frolicked across the lowland downhill from the Rookery, yipping and chasing Dudley through the thin carpet of snow. It would have been fun for her friends to join her, to throw sticks or snowballs and join in the chase. Hagrid did his best but he was big and slow and clumsy, and fell on his face once or twice, laughing uproariously as the werewolves then jumped all over him. But what if they did that with Luna, or Hermione? Her two friends looked sturdy, they would both be heavier than Rhiannon in wolf-shape or no, but even on two legs she sometimes forgot her own new strength. She couldn’t forgive herself if she lost her senses having fun... she’d learned more about her condition and how it was passed on in the recent months, even a misplaced drop of saliva in wolf-shape was a risk. It was part of why werewolves were so feared even among those human wizards who knew they weren’t monsters – it didn’t take a bite to make a werewolf.

So Rhiannon contented herself with Hagrid and Dudley’s company. Her wolf-brain wanted her pack close – not that she knew she thought of them that way - and her rational brain told her to keep that pack safe. And the rational brain won out – because it had to. The snow under her paws was more than enough to amuse her, and Hagrid always brought heavy knotted ships’ ropes or tyres or sticks to distract them if ever the snow lost its novelty.

On the 22^nd, Yule Night, Hagrid had a special treat for them both. He concealed it in a sack as they all traipsed carefully down the hill to the flat lands below the house – not for the first time Rhiannon thought it looked like a very small castle. Rhiannon could smell whatever it was, it smelled like animals and the outdoors, like food but not quite. So she was more than a little bewildered when, from the sack, Hagrid produced a pair of antlers.

“Found these down the hill a bit from Hogwarts,” Hagrid explained as he disentangled them from the bag and set them on the ground. “There’s a real deer problem in the highlands so I help keep numbers down a bit, use what I shoot, you know. Hell, you could even come help out if ever you felt up to it. Must’ve been an old buck that shed ‘em, but I decided I’d hang onto them for the pair of ye’s – there’s a bit o’ marrow left where they’d normally connect to the skull, and plenty else to interest ye.” he finished, and nudged the antlers with his boot.

Dudley lunged forward, seizing one in his mouth and retreating to chew on it, sitting with his belly flat against the ground as he explored the new thing. Rhiannon stared at him and cocked her head. An antler? In her mouth? But Dudley was completely absorbed in chewing on the wide end of the antler, without any thought of where it might have been.

Dudley looked up at Rhiannon, his ears slightly pricked. He jerked his muzzle at the other antler, clearly unsympathetic to Rhiannon’s hangups about it. It’s for chewing – why worry? was the question written plainly on his cream-furred lupine face. Rhiannon shuddered, unconvinced, and Dudley impatiently flicked the antler at her with a hind paw.

Rhiannon yipped, startled, as the antler landed just in front of her paws. She sniffed it, enticed by the scent but unconvinced – it’s off an animal, you want me to put it in my mouth? She thought, and nudged the thing with her nose.

Hagrid laughed, and he sat down on a half-buried boulder in the snow to look at them both. “Shoulda remembered you’d be a funny one about it... Listen to your instinct, kid, not your head – you’re in the wrong shape for that head and it’s leading you wrong.” he reminded her, and reached out to ruffle her ears.

Rhiannon would’ve blown a raspberry at the big, gentle man if she could. Being unable to, she instead redirected her attention to the antler that was the source of her confusion. It smelled good. She hadn’t smelled something made for chewing before, but if anything was... this was. She licked it experimentally, then wrinkled her nose at the rough texture – not for licking. She sniffed it again, then cautiously scooped it up in her mouth – along with a mouthful of dirty snow. She spat it out again immediately and grimaced while Hagrid laughed and Dudley snorted, and she scowled at them both.

I suppose I’m going to have to make a proper go of it, she thought grumpily. She didn’t like putting her teeth on things, not even her food, so her expression was the best lupine approximation of a glare she could manage as she very delicately picked the thing up in her teeth.

Settled like that, the thing did feel comfortable in her mouth and she gummed on it thoughtfully. Dudley snuffled in a self-satisfied way, Rhiannon very purposefully ignored him and shifted her position so she was more comfortable in her little snow-and-dirt hollow, peacefully chewing on her antler and ignoring her companions’ teasing.

Rhiannon liked this – sitting here underneath the stars, the sounds and smells of the world around her like a comfortable blanket, aware but not crushed by it all. She liked feeling instinctively where her companions were without having to look in on them. Her heightened senses had been so overwhelming at first but now they shaped how she interacted with the world, she felt deaf at Hogwarts. There was snow in her fur and between her paws, she knew she’d need a bath early that morning when she got in... but somehow, none of it seemed to bother her anymore. Here, at home, under the full Yule moon... she felt at home in her second skin and a heavy warmth rose in her heart – gratitude and a sort of love for the people who had given her that. Christmas Day – or Yule, though belated – could come as it liked, but aside from companionship? Rhiannon already had everything she needed, right here beneath the stars. Maybe she’d even have that companionship in time.

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Xenophilius grumbled a little, but the Yule celebrations at the Rookery were delayed until when Christmas day ordinarily would be. “I don’t believe in it!” he complained when pressed. “Christians were a right menace to the Celts and just about stomped out our heritage, I’m not celebrating the day they set up specifically to stop us celebrating Yule!”

Luna snickered and drew Rhiannon and Dudley away, warning them it was a familiar argument and not to get him started – he’d ramble about it all day if they let him. The house was peaceful early that morning, with a light snowfall outside and a few very stubborn birds still perching in the bare-branched fruit trees outside the kitchen windows. They puttered around the kitchen keeping the eggs and bacon and sausages from burning while Dudley was particularly invested in the state of the hash browns.

“You can’t have all this without hash browns!” Dudley protested, scandalised, as he reached around Luna to check through the oven window. “Do you people just, throw the sauce away? Down the sink?”

Luna wanted to know what kind of monster put tomato sauce on their eggs and from there they all devolved into a good-natured argument about breakfast condiments that had all of them giggling.

After breakfast, the three pre-teenagers were amusing themselves teasing their cats with tufts of ribbon stolen from the Yule branches, when the doorbell rang. Rhiannon leapt to her feet and made a beeline for the door, heedless of the pain – she could feel them there. She flung the door open and leaned against the frame panting a little but her joy undiminished as she beamed up at the people standing outside the front door. Friends.

Hermione stepped forward, one hand bouncing against her side – after so long, she was still hesitant about physical contact, they both were. Rhiannon nodded an answer to her wordless question and then was almost tackled back into the house by Hermione.

They stood like that for a good long time, then reluctantly separated as they were letting in all the cold air. Hermione coughed and gently steered Rhiannon back into the house by her shoulders so they could let the others in. “You feel different,” Hermione remarked quietly. “Solid. And you smell like outside.”

Rhiannon blushed, embarrassed. Hermione paid more attention to her senses than others did, of course she’d notice. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “We were playing in the snow. And Hagrid brought things to chew on.”

Hermione giggled and squeezed Rhiannon lightly. “It’s a good thing. You used to feel like... if I hugged you too tight you’d break up. Not anymore. And you’re smiling and laughing and talking. I’m really, really glad.”

Someone else behind them laughed too, and Rhiannon found herself squished against the wall as the others filed into the kitchen. She’d missed them standing behind Hermione’s parents, but Ron and his twin brothers had come along as well.

“W-won’t you get in trouble?” Rhiannon asked them, a little worried for them.

George snorted and reached past her to push the door closed. “Maybe a bit – we can only stay a couple hours or Mum’ll send us a Howler. So let’s get on with it, yeah?” he replied.

Hermione’s parents looked at eachother, then at the three Weasleys. “Maybe we should have a talk to Molly. I know Arthur’s been lovely, but it’s not fair on you all or Rhiannon if she’s being difficult,” Evelyn offered, sharing another fretful look with her husband.

Fred sighed and made his way from the doorway into the main house, beckoning for the others to follow him. They trailed after him and settled down on the couches and armchairs spread in a loose circle around the living room.

“Honestly, might be worth it,” Fred agreed wearily. “It’s not that she doesn’t like Rhi or thinks she’s a monster – sorry, Rhi – that’s not it. It’s just, people know it doesn’t take a bite to make a werewolf and that fear’s making her all controlling. We can handle a bit of a scolding when we get back but it’s getting pretty tiring, we just wanted to come have Christmas with our friends.”

Both of Hermione’s parents frowned at that, and Evelyn looked to Hagrid where he was seated in the far corner of the room. “If it’s alright with you boys, maybe we’ll come back with you, have a talk to her,” she replied.

Ron sighed and stretched back against the chair. “Please,” he said, and pushed his hair out of his face. Rhiannon noticed belatedly that it had got really long – Ron had always been a little shaggy since she’d met him, but she’d not paid much attention to i this year and so the change had sort of crept up on her.

“Anyway,” George said, rubbing his hands together to dispel the tension. “She might be being weird, but even Mum wouldn’t neglect a Weasley jumper – look, there’s one for all of you.” he added, and the three Weasley boys produced a stack of squashy parcels that they had carried in under their outdoor coats. They handed these out to Rhiannon, Luna, Dudley and Hermione, and waited eagerly.

“Well, go on!” Ron urged them, grinning. “She washed them specially and everything so they’re not itchy, again.”

Rhiannon unwrapped hers, sniffing at it curiously. This year the jumper inside was a deep warm violet colour, with a large coppery-gold R on the back and a stylised sitting cat in the same colour on the front. Inside, just like the year before, was a packet of homemade sweets – Russian fudge this year, which was Rhiannon’s favourite.

Xenophilius cautioned her not to eat it all at once. “Sugar might not be the best thing, we’re still working out how much bleed-through there is with your metabolism.” he warned. Dudley, who had been gleefully tucking into his own, looked up and then glumly put it away with a wistful sigh. His sweater was a bright eye-smarting gold and he insisted on wearing it immediately, because on the front was a stylised smoking potion bottle and he thought it was fantastic.

“It’s a pity your mum’s weird about the whole werewolf thing, because she seems really cool,” Dudley commented as he straightened the jersey out. “I’d love to learn to knit stuff like this. Tell her thanks from me, yeah?”

Luna nodded from their armchair, quietly curled up with Cheshire and Hope who were both sound asleep. “I like the purple,” he agreed, holding up the blue-violet jumper that had a black cat sitting in front of a crescent moon on it. “Even though Cheshire’s blue.”

Hermione’s jumper was orange, which wasn’t exactly her favourite colour – but even she had to admit the soft peachy sunset tone was pleasant. “Feels like wearing a hug,” she mumbled, and fiddled with the end of a braid – her hair had been redone back into the style she’d worn most of the previous year.

Xenophilius had exiled himself to the kitchen while they unwrapped their Christmas gifts, rather than spoil the atmosphere with his grumbling. Danjuma joined them and the two of them worked on getting a respectable midday spread together while the others continued with their gifts.

“Sorry we, don’t really have anything,” Luna apologised, xir pale cheeks flushing as Hermione’s mother passed faer a blue-wrapped package. “Dad’s thing is that the company and the food are the gift.”

Evelyn and the Weasleys reassured him that was fine – they were good enough to host them all, with the unexpected addition of three extras, that was a perfectly decent gift as far as they were concerned.

The Ndiaye-Grangers’ gifts were, as always, practical ones. For Rhiannon was a pair of good-quality Chaser gloves that they’d taken a special trip to Diagon Alley to find, as well as a boxed VHS cassette of the movie adaptation of one of Rhiannon and Hermione’s favourites, The Fellowship of the Ring. That made Rhiannon, Luna and Dudley all giggle while Hermione and her mother stared, and the Weasley boys peered at it like it was an alien life form.

“But we don’t have a video player!” Rhiannon protested, through helpless laughter. It was such a normal thing to forget about, but the Rookery was a wizarding house – it wasn’t even wired for electricity.

Xenophilius poked his head out of the kitchen at that. “You leave that to me – I’ll catch Arthur on a day off work and see what we can come up with.” he said, before retreating back into the kitchen.

Rhiannon instinctively hugged the box to her chest – she wasn’t all that sure she wanted to let the very excitable but not always very cautious Arthur Weasley at her precious Fellowship. “Don’t – break it, please?” she asked in a very small voice, to an uproar of laughter.

“Oh, that’s a Christmas gift all on its own for Dad,” Ron agreed with a groan. “I’m sure Luna’s dad won’t let him near it – he’ll be too excited playing with the actual machine anyway.” The twins snorted, and turned over their own gifts in their hands – replacement Beaters’ bats and copies of some young-adult adventure fantasy books that Hermione thought they might enjoy.

Ron had been a little harder to buy gifts for as he lacked the very settled interests Rhiannon and the twins had. A broomstick was a bit too expensive, but Hermione’s parents had found him a pair of Chasing gloves too and several books on Quidditch strategy and learning to play, including one on his favourite team. He shook off any attempted apologies for the impersonal gifts. “No, I like them!” he retorted and hugged the gloves and Quidditch books to his chest when Hermione offered to take them back and find something better.

Luna and Dudley were even harder for Hermione’s family to find gifts for than Ron had been. That was understandable – outside of the Rookery, others just didn’t know them so well, and they were more Rhiannon’s friends than Hermione’s. But what they had noticed was a shared interest in art. Dudley, with his interest in potions, had naturally developed an interest in magical art and photography – potions were used to treat photographs and make them move, and could be added to paint for a variety of effects. So for him, their gift was a small art kit – no magic in the paints or brushes, but there were binding spells in the treatment of the canvas just in case his magic did leak out onto it – they’d seen similar things happen that year already; because there was so little knowledge on what Squibs could and couldn’t do there was also little knowledge on how to manage their magic and it was all too easy for Dudley to accidentally pick up and redirect latent magic, especially in magic-heavy environments like Hogwarts when he was focused on his work.

For Luna, their gift was more simple – plain clay and lots of it. Luna was a very tactile learner and sculpture appealed to them for just that reason. Hogwarts was full of old works of art, and while Rhiannon wasn’t artistically inclined at all she could certainly see how the statues and sculptures around the castle and grounds might inspire someone with that tendency – like Luna – to their own creations. Luna thanked them in her quiet, direct manner and sat there cheerfully squishing one of the packets of the clay and listening to the conversations around him.

When they had finished with their gift-giving, Xenophilius and Danjuma emerged from the kitchen bearing trays of food. They directed everyone to the dining table, where the food was set down, and then Xenophilius took a large log out from beside the fireplace and set it on the fire with an air of ceremony. The log would have crushed the small fire already burning there had he not helped it along with his wand, and he dusted his hands off on his shirt and returned to the table. “Have to keep some tradition to it, even if we’re doing it all on the wrong day,” he explained, and then set about dishing out the midday meal.

It wasn’t Rhiannon’s first Christmas, or Yule, but it was her first at somewhere she might call home. Ron, Fred and George had to leave them just after the meal, but they promised to visit again through the holidays and she was left feeling warm and loved inside. Hermione’s family laughed quietly and they found many cultural differences between wizard and nonmagical families, but the air was a familial one and Rhiannon even noticed the ever-fretful Xenophilius smile throughout the day.

Finally, late after their evening meal, they were all running low on energy and ready for bed. A guest room had been put together for Hermione’s parents, while the kids were happy to curl up in the living room on the couches. Ron had returned just before dark, so they were all comfortable there and just getting ready to put out the lights and wish Hermione’s parents good night when Xenophilius stopped them.

There was a quiver in his hands, and his eyes were watery and bright even through his smile. He stepped forward to squeeze first Evelyn’s hands, then Danjuma’s, and nodded in his quiet birdlike way.

“Thankyou, for this,” he said softly. “It hasn’t been long since I... since we lost Pandora. This would be the third Yule without her. And you all made it the first we weren’t alone in this big house. Thankyou, all of you, for making this holiday a happy one for me and for my Luna.”

Nobody remained dry-eyed. There was nothing to really say in response that wouldn’t diminish it, but Rhiannon was incredibly touched that he’d shared a little part of his feelings with them all – both Luna and vir father tended to keep their feelings close. Rhiannon stood stiffly – her earlier exuberance had caught up with her, leaving her feeling stiff and weary – and limped over to hug her foster-father. She squeezed him tightly, and he ruffled her hair. “Thankyou, too,” she whispered to him, and was rewarded with one of his brilliant smiles as she turned away.

After that, the adults all wandered off to bed talking quietly amongst themselves while Rhiannon and her family of friends settled themselves on the couches with piles of blankets and three sleeping cats to warm them as well as the fire that still crackled away quietly in the kitchen. Hermione fished under her pillow for the book she had stowed there, Wild Magic, and set it to reading while they all shifted to make themselves comfortable and settled into a peaceful half-awake doze listening to to the narrated voice of Onua Chamtong talking about Daine, the Girl with the Pony, as the book began. They were asleep before the chapter even finished, and their dreams were as peaceful as the day itself had been.