A few days before the end of the holidays, they received an owl bearing news of the situation at school. They had somewhat expected it, but it was still shocking to see on paper – the school would be closed at the end of the final term unless the situation was resolved. They were to return to study and take their exams so that transfer to new schools would not set them behind, and that was all.

So Rhiannon and Luna returned to school tense and apprehensive. The environment was... strange, to say the least. Whispers filled the corridors as they had all year but this time Rhiannon was not the target – the school itself was. The whispers hinted that Dumbledore was not doing his job right, that the Board of Governors were unhappy. Before, Rhiannon hadn’t thought there was a higher power than Dumbledore at the school. Professor McGonagall had had to take her case to the Ministry to get something done about it. But it seemed even Dumbledore had to answer to someone. And Rhiannon was not one to put a great deal of stock in rumours... but even she had to agree with these ones. Maybe the school would do better under someone else.

Still, there was the matter of its’ immediate risk of closure to consider. And though Rhiannon was sure she would be set, there had been talk of her studying from home or even going abroad to France along with Luna, to a school there that openly accepted of non-humans as students... Dudley was another case entirely and she worried for him. Dudley’s acceptance at Hogwarts had broken through centuries of ignorance about Squib mages. There was no guarantee that any other school would do the same. And before the attack, he’d had such life to him, even passion, that Rhiannon had never seen of him before. It would be cruel to take away his new learning and crush that potential now. Besides, she knew something about the Chamber, something she didn’t think the rest of the school did.

So in early May, two weeks after returning to school, Rhiannon took the matter to Professor McGonagall. Or at least, she meant to. Professor McGonagall wasn’t in her office. A Hufflepuff prefect, Helena Ban, was studying outside her empty office and pointed Rhiannon in the direction of Dumbledore’s office to find the Professor.

Dumbledore’s office. She’d been in there once – twice, if the memory counted. She could call up the image of it in her mind as easy as breathing. It was the one part of the school she steered clear of at all times. Rhiannon quailed at the prospect as she made the trek upstairs to the Headmaster’s office. She needn’t have bothered – she got only so far as the hallway outside it when the sounds of a serious discussion stopped her in her tracks. She shrank down behind a cast bronze statue to hide, seating herself on its’ plinth as she peered around it and listened in to the conversation. She told herself that she wasn’t eavesdropping – just waiting to see Professor McGonagall.

Just as the prefect had told her, Professor McGonagall was in the hallway outside the Headmaster’s office, along with Albus Dumbledore. With them was a third man, one Rhiannon vaguely recognised. He was dressed well in black cape and charcoal robes trimmed with silver, and his long pale blonde hair was tied back with a black velvet ribbon. He had a fair face, or would have done – he was probably quite handsome in his youth but now his face was lined with bitterness and twisted into a mocking smile. She’d seen him once before, in Knockturn Alley – Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father.

“This is an Order of Suspension,” the blond man was saying, as he took a substantial roll of parchment from his robe. “You’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid the governors, whom I represent, rather feel you are... losing your touch. A teacher assaulted a student last year, found to be serving the Dark Lord... another who is utterly inept, and five attacks this year – one on a girl of good blood standing, the rest... at this rate, there’ll be no Muggle-borns left at this school, and I’m sure we all know what a dreadful loss that would be. You must understand, Albus, this cannot continue; and the governors feel that the school would be better served by another. We would prefer this school does not close.”

Rhiannon gaped at the scene before her, as both Professor McGonagall and the suddenly-deposed Headmaster stared at Lucius Malfoy in turn.

“If the governors call for my removal, Lucius, I will of course step aside,” Dumbledore replied calmly, though Rhiannon was sure she didn’t imagine the waver in his voice. “Though I fail to see how it achieves much. This school has been searched numerous times – if I could not find it, how could my successor hope to do better?”

At that, Rhiannon snorted. He had such a high opinion of himself, it was astounding – he kept it even with five students petrified and a monster last mastered by the boy who went on to become Lord Voldemort roaming the school. There was beyond all doubt a Chamber of Secrets in this castle, and that meant it could be found. It just meant he hadn’t looked hard enough. She could see both Lucius Malfoy and Professor McGonagall withheld similar expressions of derision, while Dumbledore looked aloof.

“However, Lucius – do remember this. I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will come to those at Hogwarts who ask for it.” Dumbledore finished, his tone as infuriatingly mild as ever. Rhiannon growled at that, deep in her throat – oh, help, sending her back to the Dursleys – that was his idea of help? Luna and a Prefect sleeping on common room couches because they were unwelcome in their dormitories? Oh, help could be given – but he made himself unapproachable if someone needed it, untouchably distant in that ivory tower of an office. Even to the Girl Who Lived – or especially to her. Dumbledore’s method of help was swooping in at the last minute, making contact when he decided – and she couldn’t stop the tidal flood of relief that washed over her as the deposed Headmaster turned on his heel and strode back into his office, presumably to pack.

Now as Rhiannon still watched, Lucius Malfoy turned his attention to Professor McGonagall who stood stone-faced in the corridor before him. “Minerva, you are the natural replacement, and the Board requests that you step up. It’s too turbulent now to bring on anyone new, with the school at risk of closure. Salvage this mess, and you can keep the post. You have three months.” he informed her briskly. Rhiannon rarely saw her favourite professor at a loss for words, but now was that time. She’d not have been surprised had Professor McGonagall saluted the sly blond man, she looked so taken aback.

“Yes – yes, Lucius. Of course, I’d be honoured,” Professor McGonagall replied at last, drawing herself upright. She stood a good two or three inches taller than Lucius, and the greyness faded from her face as she nodded, centering herself. “I can only promise that I will do my best by the students. But I will do everything in my power and push the boundaries of that to find this cursed damn Chamber, rest sure of that.”

Lucius smiled grimly and executed a shallow bow. “Be sure you do, Minerva. There was a killing last time. Petrifications are bad enough for business, death is even worse. Be well, and don’t let us down.” he said finally. Rhiannon shrank back into the shadow of the statue as he turned and strode away past her, down the corridor and out of sight.

She turned her attention back to Professor McGonagall, to see the older woman sag against the wall and cover her face with a hand. At this distance she couldn’t hear a whisper distinctly, but by the motions and what faint muttering she did hear, she suspected the professor swore. Rhiannon shifted, planning to emerge from behind the statue to talk to the professor, but she was caught up wondering how to do so without revealing she had been eavesdropping and all of a sudden it was too late, as Professor McGonagall pushed herself off the wall and let herself into the Headmaster’s office – now her office.

Giving up for the time being, Rhiannon slunk back to the Gryffindor common room to relay the news to her friends. They were as startled as she was – whether liked or not, Albus Dumbledore was a legend, and had been a fixture at Hogwarts for more than sixty years. Lucius Malfoy on the other hand was heartily distrusted, and they found it discomforting that he had been the bearer of what could well be the change to save the school. Faye’s witch mother was also on the Board of Governors, as was Susan Bones’ father – and they had heard nothing of this from their parents.

It was a mystery doomed to go unsolved for now, and it was added to the growing collection of such as exam preparation ramped up and once again Rhiannon was too busy to do more than worry as she drifted off to sleep. Even her worries about Hermione and Dudley were eased, as the mandrakes that would provide the restorative draught were almost ready. But that didn’t ease the pain she felt at the prospect of another full moon alone. She would have weathered it, she was sure of that – but by some unspoken counsel amongst her friends, she was not allowed to even try.

Rather than argue pointlessly with Rhiannon, her friends – Ron, Neville, Lavender and Luna, at least – caught her unawares as she was leaving Hagrid’s cabin to undergo the transformation. They were unmoved as she spluttered with half-hearted protests, and refused to leave.

“We’ve not pushed it before,” Ron said, “but I think now’s the time. We all saw you over February, remember? So we know werewolves don’t do good on their own. You’re our friend, Rhi, on four legs or two. And we’re all wearing gloves, see – no accidents here, I’ve heard of turnings happening that way. I even read up on it. So go on now, and we’ll join you in a bit.” he finished firmly.

Rhiannon was more than touched as all her friends gathered there nodded at that and offered their own additions. Luna squeezed her hand a moment, and Rhiannon couldn’t help thinking again how pretty – no, beautiful, they looked under the spring moonlight. “I – I... I can’t... I’ll be back,” she stammered, feeling the change burn in every fibre of her body as she scrambled for some way to thank them. She’d have to do so later, she could already feel the first bits of fur sprouting under her dressing gown and her joints beginning to seize. Oh, it hurt, it always did, but it was a familiar pain now. If she cried every time she would have lost her voice long ago screaming. She shook her head and hobbled away for the comfort of distance as privacy, and for a more practical reason – she didn’t want to accidentally catch anyone with a flailing tooth or claw as she changed. She could take their company once she was wholly changed, but she wouldn’t budge on halfway.

Twenty or thirty metres away Rhiannon fell in the long grass, her foot in a rabbit hole. That was all it took – she had been half about to fall as it was, with the change on her. The ache of her twisted ankle faded under the rush of it all, and that too was dulled as she unknotted her dressing gown with shaking hands and let it fall from her shoulders, staring up at the moon that hung low over the trees. The moon took her pain and held it distant, cradling her in its’ irresistible pull even as her body changed in the ways she had long since stopped trying to reason out.

Before long, Rhiannon stood, favouring a hind paw as she did so. She’d grown familiar with the mixed people-scents of her friends over the past months since her turning, but she’d never had them all together – well, most of them – while she was wolf-shaped. Had she been able to, she might have cried. Instead, she limped back to them with her ears flat with worry and the tip of her tail wiggling hopefully. Hagrid had joined them, and he frowned at her as she stepped carefully on the injured foot.

“What’d you do?” Hagrid asked her, with a gesture to the injured limb. She just looked at him, and he snorted with laughter. “Right, I keep forgettin’. Ye look at me and I forget yeh can’t talk like this, yeh look all smart like. Foot in a rabbit hole? Bastard things. They’re a touch short on predators so they’re a bloody menace.”

Rhiannon’s ears pricked up at that, and Hagrid shook his head. “Nah, don’t you go tryin’ to catch ‘em,” he warned her. “You’re much too new for that, and ye’re friends are all here. Like as not you’d fetch up against a tree or in another hole. Let’s go a-walkin’ instead, yeah?” he suggested.

Rhiannon grumbled and fell back to walk in step with her friends as Hagrid set off ahead of them. Luna fell in easily at her side, a hand on her shoulderblades as they had done last moon, while the others were a little more cautious. “Is it a’right, then? To touch her?” Ron asked cautiously.

Lavender rolled her eyes at him. “It’s spread by bodily fluids, and we’re wearing gloves. We’ll be fine.” she replied sharply. Ron frowned at that, and Rhiannon flicked an ear impatiently. It wasn’t her business to tell about Lavender’s family even if she’d been able to, and she did wish Ron was a little less guarded about new friends she made – it was her business, not his. Still, she knew he was that way only out of worry for her, and that knowing took the sting out of her frustration. His hand on her head as he reached over and scratched her ears did so even further.

Ron startled as she rumbled happily, and Luna giggled. “She growled at me!” Ron protested, while the rest of her friends laughed more.

“It’s – kind of like a purr. Trust me, you’ll know if she growls,” Luna replied, still giggling. She scratched Rhiannon’s ears, eliciting the same response. They were far past Hagrid’s hut now, out on the open highlands where the grass was thin and dry, the ground lumpy and pockmarked with rabbit holes and various hoof-prints. Woven around her friends’ smells were those of deer, rabbits, foxes, martens and the many other regular creatures of the highlands. Rhiannon itched to chase them, but heeded Hagrid’s warning and that of her sore foot – today wasn’t the time to try her paw at hunting. Besides, there were other smells here, ones that didn’t belong out of the forest. The unicorns and the winged horses, their strange shuffling guardians – that was all normal. But centaurs rarely roamed this far out of the forest – they were prideful about their territories, and resenting any possible overlap with a werewolf.

Hagrid hefted the crossbow he always carried, and scowled, scuffing grass aside with his boot as he studied prints in the grass. Evidently he’d found the same things she’d smelled. “Acromantula mus’ be pushin’ them out the forest, they’re all riled. Stick together, ye lot, no wanderin’.” he warned them, and Rhiannon sneezed and flattened her ears as her friends pressed in closer to her. Surely they were in more danger than she was, being as they didn’t have the protection of claws and teeth and thick fur? But there was no dissuading them from it, so she padded on ahead comfortably enough.

“Hol’ up, we got company,” Hagrid warned them. And sure enough, the smell Rhiannon had noticed was stronger, and she could feel the heavy hoof-falls of their approach through her paws. What were centaurs doing so far out of the forest? Then again, they were centaurs – they could explain that for themselves.

“Rubeus!” a half-familiar rough voice called out, and Rhiannon’s friends shrank back as a great black-haired centaur galloped up to them. He skidded to a halt a few metres away, spraying the group with loose grass, seeds and dirt.

“P’lite as ever I see, Bane,” Hagrid grumbled as he dusted himself off. “What’s got yer tail in a twist?”

Bane – now Rhiannon remembered him, the black-coated centaur who she had met the same night she’d met Quirrell in the forest. He’d been dreamier then, fixed on the stars. Now he carried a longbow, with a matching quiver strapped to his back, and he wore armguards that looked to Rhiannon’s uneducated eye to be boiled leather on his forearms. “You can’t bring the pup here, Rubeus,” Bane said, his voice tense. “You know the agreement – not on our land.”

Hagrid scowled. “This ain’t your land, Bane. Your kind keeps in the forest. I’m fine t’ renegotiate, but yeh got t’ give a man warnin’.” he replied.

Bane sighed, and shook his head. “We didn’t get warning either. The eight-leggers are stirring in their nests, running wild through the forest. Our eaves are overgrown with their webs and they eat everything in sight. The stars are drenched in blood. We must move out into the highlands if we are to keep our young ones safe. Take heed, Rubeus – your young are no safer than ours from them.” he said.

Hagrid grimaced, and rubbed a hand over his face. Rhiannon’s friends looked frightened, and crowded closer to her. Rhiannon drew herself up to her own meagre height, though she had more to her than she had before, even if it was mostly all leg and bone. “Then you’ll have to make your peace with the young wolf’s wanderin’s. We’ll steer clear of your camps and leave no blood, but we’ve to share this place until it’s safe again.” he responded, with a gesture back at Rhiannon. “I promise she’ll bring ye no harm, she’s but twelve and a gentle kid besides.”

Bane bent down to look closer at Rhiannon, who met his gaze frankly. She had more confidence in this shape – she didn’t have to make the right faces or anything, only look and listen. “This is the Potter girl, isn’t it?” he asked, though he didn’t look to Hagrid for an answer. “The lightning’s in her fur, and we’ve met before. That’s not a fate the stars showed us for you, young one... but it does suit, I must admit, better than many others I’ve met. Very well. Leave no blood, and keep away from our camps, and you can roam undisturbed. Well met, Rubeus, Potter.” he said, and turned away with a shallow bow to them. Hagrid looked more than a little bewildered as Bane cantered away, and looked over to Rhiannon for answer.

“Strange, that – he’s rarely so polite, or so helpful. He must like you.” Hagrid mused, kneeling to scratch Rhiannon under the chin as he considered the problem. “We’ll keep goin’, but all you stay close – yeh don’t break promises to centaurs, they take it personal. Can’t say I blame ‘em, with so little land left to ‘em I’d prefer not t’ encroach any more’n we have to.”

Luna nodded, ruffling Rhiannon’s ears as the wolf-girl looked up at them. “Why don’t we head to the lake? I’ve always wanted to see it at night.” he suggested. “And water sources are always neutral territory by centaur custom, so long as we’re respectful.”

Hagrid considered that, then stood with a grunt of effort. “Fair true, that. And where’d you learn so much ‘bout centaurs?” he asked, beckoning the group to follow him as he set off across the rolling rocky grasslands towards the distant lake.

Luna shrugged, and lifted xir hand from Rhiannon’s shoulders to push a lock of untidy hair from faer face. “I met some once, near Tintagel. My parents get on - well, got on - well enough with that herd.” she replied. “Then I read a bit about them. It’s always good to be educated, especially on a people our laws treat so badly.”

Hagrid grunted again, and his shoulders took on a mutinous set. “Ye’re right, o’ course,” he agreed. “I’ve not the patience for their stargazin’ and beatin’ about the bush, but it figures Xen’d do well with that. Ye can learn a lot from ‘em if they like yeh.”

Ron grinned. “Charlie says the same. He’s friendly with the herd near the sanctuary in Romania – he’s got t’ be, the mess the dragons make sometimes. And they seem interesting – imagine how much better astronomy could be if one of them taught us?” he replied.

Lavender sighed. “Or Divination – I’m excited to take that next year, but Professor Trelawney’s a bit dippy,” she agreed.

As they talked, they came to a rise that overlooked the lake. It lay out below them like a great starlit mirror, broken in places by rocks though it reflected the moon with barely a ripple to mar it. Hagrid didn’t often bring them here – he said it was hard to get the smell of wet dog off their clothes and his blankets. But it was Rhiannon’s favourite place in all of Hogwarts’ surroundings to explore under the moonlight, had been ever since her first night in September.

She looked at Hagrid for permission, and when he grinned and nodded, Rhiannon burst free of the circle of her friends and galloped off down the hill with hardly a care for where she put her paws. Rocks skidded under her as she half-slid down the hill, and she let out an excited yip of delight as she splashed straight into the lake. Her friends laughed and set off down the hill towards her as she gambolled happily in the spray and the shallows. Hogwarts was under new leadership, there was a month or less until her friends would be alright again – things were looking up for Rhiannon, and she had energy to spare.

Afterwards, as they returned to the castle, Rhiannon still had an itch in her bones even so early in the morning. Her friends drifted off to bed half-asleep already and very glad that it was Saturday now, but Rhiannon wasn’t ready to rest yet. She wanted to share everything with Hermione and Dudley. She felt guilty now that the rush had faded, guilty that she had let herself enjoy the night without them. That the first time her friends had seen Rhiannon in wolf shape, Hermione hadn’t been there. So she slipped away from her friends and instead of heading upstairs to the common room and to bed, she crept through the first floor’s winding corridors in search of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t turn her away, if she was even awake at this hour.

Rhiannon winced as the door creaked, but no-one moved as she crept into the hospital wing. It was deserted save for two sleepers and five Petrified students. She didn’t need light to tell which was Hermione’s or Dudley’s and made a beeline for the beds. Since she no longer slept there, the spare had been moved and her closest friend and cousin lay side by side in the faint gray light of dawn. Rhiannon sat down on the edge of Hermione’s bed and squeezed her friend’s hand, biting her lip.

“I- I wish you were there, tonight,” she whispered. “It’s almost over now, the mandrakes are so close to ready – but it’s not fair that you missed out... what’s this?” Rhiannon mused, finding something tucked into Hermione’s hand. In all the time she had spent in here, she had missed it – likely she had been too shut down to notice if she had come across it before. She pried it from Hermione’s frozen grasp, fearful of ripping it. She needn’t have worried – it was sturdy parchment, crumpled and battered but legible. It clearly had once belonged to a library book – indeed, Rhiannon remembered faintly – Hermione had been found by the library. It had seemed odd at the time, given the restricted movements of students in the school, as Hermione was not one to break such restrictions. Nor was she one to tear pages from library books. But Rhiannon’s eyes widened and she stared at the words printed on the crumpled parchment.

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents... Serpents – snakes. She had heard a voice, but Dudley had heard only whispering and slithering – the monster was a snake. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy – that only confirmed it. No wonder Hermione had torn out the parchment – it held the answer. Ministry searchers and teachers alike had searched the school, but had they torn apart the walls? Combed the plumbing? Because there it was, in Hermione’s neat handwriting circled twice – pipes. The monster they faced was a Basilisk, and someone led it through the walls of the castle.