Content warning - animal death, hunting, blood

After that, the rest of their class time flew by – very literally, as Ron was coaxed into riding Buckbeak and some of their other classmates were offered the same privilege. Eventually they ran out of time and Hagrid ushered them back to the castle for lunchbreak before their next class. For everyone else, that was a core class – in the case of the Gryffindors and Slytherins, Charms, after they’d finished with lunch. However, for Rhiannon and Hermione, it was time for Arithmancy. They sneaked away from their friends, claiming a need to use the bathroom. Instead they turned back time and sneaked off to Arithmancy together. Rhiannon was disappointed to find that the class, much like ordinary mathematics, bent her brain. Hermione was enthralled by the prospect of the complex mechanics of the subject and rambled on about the possibilities of complex structures of charmwork using that framework, but Rhiannon couldn’t quite follow and it was uncomfortable to finally find something she couldn’t do. And that Hermione could. She didn’t like feeling jealous of her best friend, but couldn’t help the feeling, and fell quiet through the lesson until they crept off to lunch-break and to rejoin their friends.

The rest of their school days found a rhythm much like that one – a lot of sneaking around and dashing between classes. Most nights Rhiannon crawled into bed wondering if she’d made a mistake. She enjoyed all her classes save Arithmancy and Divination. Muggle Studies was surprisingly enjoyable, if a little pointless; and she, Hermione and other Muggle-raised students enjoyed side-tracking their professor, Charity Burbage, with discussions about Muggle history and literature. And Ancient Runes was enjoyable too, though Professor Kjartanson – also the new head of Gryffindor House – was a bit of a hardass. He showed a soft spot, though, for students interested in Goblin culture and politics. As they were the last living people who used the language which he taught, Professor Kjartanson seemed to consider himself responsible for talking about the social context in which it was still used, as well as its purely magical applications.

When Rhiannon discussed the subject with Dudley in their study sessions, he immediately looked thoughtful and started sketching on the back of his homework. Runes could be used as shortcuts for spells for a number of reasons – he suggested that maybe, maybe, he could use them to build a shortcut for talking. For Neville, or for Hermione or Rhi or Luna when they couldn’t speak. It seemed a brilliant idea to Rhiannon, and she roped Hermione in to help Dudley figure it out. They soon got talking about complex magical mechanics and Arithmancy, and Rhiannon decided to leave them to it with a faint pang of envy.

However, things didn’t always go right even in the classes they both enjoyed. In their private classes with Headmaster McGonagall, they found that Hermione was having trouble seeing the board. That was a concern, because if anything Hermione had always had better eyesight than Rhiannon. But as McGonagall asked her to think on it, they both realised she’d been sitting closer to the front of the class, and that maybe some of her sensory overload headaches might be eye-strain as well. So McGonagall sent her to Madam Pomfrey for a checkup.

The worst they’d expected was that Hermione might need glasses, but Madam Pomfrey’s fretful expression as she examined Hermione’s eyes physically told them that the problem was worse than that. Eventually she contacted Hermione’s parents, a conversation neither Rhiannon nor Hermione was allowed to overhear. Whatever it was, Madam Pomfrey’s face was grim when she called Hermione back in. Hermione insisted that Rhiannon accompany her and together they sat down in Madam Pomfrey’s office, holding hands for comfort against the anxiety.

Hermione did need glasses. She chose out a pair identical to Rhiannon’s save for the lenses, which Madam Pomfrey could easily switch out. There were small attachments that could be clipped on for detail work. But the problem was deeper than needing glasses. Half of it was the scar tissue on the inside of Hermione’s lids, the product of a congenital condition that, if removed, would only grow back. Her father had the same problem to less of an extent, and it scratched her corneas with every blink. Already a faint milky sheen of damage was visible. But that was only half of it. The other half was a congenital condition from her mother’s side, a kind of degenerative myopia. That was the reason for the easy-to-switch lenses.

Madam Pomfrey was apologetic and miserable, but Hermione was surprisingly unconcerned about it and roped Rhiannon into learning braille with her and coming up with other ways of working on their magic. “Look, my grandma’s blind – mostly the same kind of blind as I’m gonna get,” Hermione said when Rhiannon asked her. “Nobody tells her she can’t do things unless they want to get whacked with her cane. And you took out a Basilisk with no eyes either. There’s no point me fretting about it, they’re only giving me a headache as it is, so I might as well just, learn what I can so when I need it, I have it.”

And that was the end of that, really. It seemed Rhiannon and their other friends were more concerned about it than Hermione herself was, and that was more than a little silly given it wasn’t their problem. So Rhiannon returned her attention to classes with a will, resolved to support Hermione rather than dump her worries on her friend. Defence Against the Dark Arts, despite her distrust of the teacher, quickly became a favourite class for the both of them and the rest of their friends besides. Professor Lupin was cheerful and competent, patient with the class who had mixed experience in the subject. He covered Dark magic detection and commonly confused concepts, reiterating that Dark magic was in the intent rather than there being innately Dark spells, but his favourite topic was clearly Dark creatures. He began on relatively minor threats – Doxies, imps, pixies and the like, teaching the class not only ways to defeat them if they were riled, but ways to avoid riling them in the first place. Even Rhiannon had to admit, he was good. Easily the best teacher of the subject anyone had had in years, even the Prefects said so.

So as ever, things gradually fell into a routine, time-travel aside. Rhiannon was worried to find that the blocker potion didn’t seem to quite be working, as the little bulge in her throat grew more distinct and she even had to beg a razor off Lavender to rid herself of the beginnings of fuzz that grew on her upper lip, chin and jaw, as well as her legs, and there were still other changes too embarrassing to think of. She waited eagerly for the full moon as a reprieve from the discomfort of her body, and finally, in their second week at Hogwarts it arrived. Ditching her dorm-mates was a little harder than usual as most of them weren’t in the know, but she managed to slip off with Ron and meet Ginny, Dudley, Luna and Hermione outside, where all together they made their way downhill to Hagrid’s hut. Rhiannon had to lean on Hermione and Luna, for some reason the change was burning in her veins too early, too fast, and she barely had time to stagger away from her friends for the safety and privacy of a tree before it was upon her.

All too quickly Rhiannon stood on four legs rather than two, the light cover of cloud notwithstanding. She padded back to her friends beside Hagrid’s cabin and pushed her damp nose into Hermione’s hand, making her giggle and splutter in mixed disgust and amusement. “Rhi – Nyx – no! No licking!” she protested, wiping her hands clean on Rhiannon’s head fluff.

Luna cackled, and Rhiannon leaped up to rest her front paws on their shoulders. Luna pushed ineffectively on the werewolf’s chest, but to no use as she giggled helplessly and Rhiannon huffed happily, playfully nosing at Luna’s hair and face.

“Ok, Nyx, Rhiannon, whichever – down, girl,” Ron said, swatting Rhiannon away until she huffed in a grumpy sort of way and hopped down, returning to all fours with a thud. Ron ruffled her ears affectionately and shook his head when she whined at him. “I know, I know, you’re excited but you’ve got to be careful, remember?” he reminded her. She whined and licked at the air beside his hand, and he swatted at her again. “No.”

Rhiannon-Nyx, sulking and with her tail drooping, flattened her ears and padded over to Dudley and Ginny instead. The sky was not yet even entirely dark, and she pushed her nose into Dudley’s hand with a whine. He sighed and scratched her ears, which elicited a little tail-wag from the sulky werewolf. “Weird, for you to turn early... Hagrid, anything?” he asked, looking over at the man sitting on the front steps of the cabin.

Hagrid shrugged, looking a little perturbed. “Could be any number o’ things... I’ll have a think. For now, you git – you’re sproutin’ fur and you’re concerned about her?” he said with a chuckle, shooing Dudley away. He flushed greenish-grey under the moonlight and limped off to find his own tree, leaving Rhiannon to sidle awkwardly over to Ginny for the attention she was missing.

Ginny giggled. “You’re really just a puppy, arentcha? I mean what, you didn’t even have Wolfsbane that time you bowled me down and all you did was snot on me. C’mere, you,” she said, reaching down to scratch under Rhiannon’s chest. The werewolf’s leg twitched, then scratched at the air beneath her as Ginny tickled her, and she flopped to the ground on her side with her tongue lolling out. Ginny laughed, and Hermione, Ron and Luna all converged on them as Rhiannon whined for further attention.

Eventually, much loose hair and hastily wiped-off werewolf slobber later, Dudley returned on four legs with the spring back in his step and his tail wagging happily. “Alright! Since everyone’s got the right number o’ legs, we can head off. May as well head through your bit o’ the forest first, clear things up for the hippogriffs. I’m real sorry about that, the other day – stupid o’ me not to think of it. They get a bit antsy when territories aren’t so clear, but you did wonderful with Beaky, I was so proud.” Hagrid said, beckoning the teenagers onward with him. Dudley whined, and Hagrid snorted. “Yeah, I know, the porlocks hate yeh. No surprise, wolf boy. If you come at the end of the day yeh can help me with my critters and I’ll consider it equivalent credit. Yeh’ll have better luck with the fierce ones, so long as you can suss out a mutual respect like Rhi did.” he offered. Dudley yipped happily and bounced in circles around them all while his friends laughed good-naturedly.

“Best we stick to the forest, as far off the castle was we can. Those Dementors are all around the walls, we don’t want t’ tangle with ‘em – I’m only learnin’ how t’ use this wand thing again, I’ll be no good to yeh against ‘em.” Hagrid told them with a shudder, as they all made their way into the eaves of the forest.

Ron shuddered, and Rhiannon slunk back behind Luna and Hermione with a whine. “Let’s not, thanks... Rhi had a bad enough time on two legs, I don’t want to see how it would go this time... let’s, I don’t know, bother some more rabbits or somethin’.” Ron said, shivering. Rhiannon licked Luna’s hand and whined until xe sighed and scratched her ears fondly.

“Rhi, you really have to watch the licking,” Luna warned her half-heartedly. Rhiannon yipped and nuzzled the top of her head into Luna’s hand, letting her tongue loll out happily as they walked. “No, I’m serious. It’s not that I’d mind, but I really see myself more as a cat kinda person than a werewolf.”

Hermione snickered to herself, while Ron and Ginny laughed aloud. “Eh, wash our hands, nobody’s got any cuts anywhere, yeah? There’s worse things that could happen even if we’d rather not,” Ron replied nonchalantly. “Not like I could manage an Animagus turn anyway...” he muttered gloomily to himself, inaudible except to the werewolves. Rhiannon whined and turned her sad puppy eyes on him until he relented and managed a smile in return. “Fine! God, can’t get anything past you can I?” he asked. Rhiannon shook her head adamantly, looking as smug as a long-legged, goofy-faced juvenile wolf possibly could.

Something snuffled softly in the trees and Dudley’s ears pricked up in delight. Rhiannon whined softly, but he was already off at a stealthy trot, his tail low and still so as to not disturb the undergrowth. She didn’t want to ruin his hunt, but the idea of hunting in general wasn’t one she was totally comfortable with yet. There was a rustle of leaves, a branch cracked sharply and there was a squeal of some small animal that was quickly cut off by a growl and a snap. Dudley returned, trotting back proudly with a long, fat fluffy carcass swinging from his jaws. Hermione grimaced and turned her face away, while Luna peered closer. “Huh, nice,” xe commented with a nod to Dudley’s catch. “Mink are pests. Biggest cause of the water vole population crash in the second half of the 20^th century. Hunt away.”

Ron, Ginny and Rhiannon looked askance to Hagrid, as Dudley pranced around proudly with the black-furred creature still swinging from his jaws, and Hagrid chuckled. “Kid’s right – they’re a bloody menace. Nice catch.” he agreed.

Rhiannon shuddered and whined as Dudley fell behind to eat his catch loudly and messily. She bounded over to Hagrid and bounced in circles around him, wagging her tail and whimpering. Hagrid snorted with laughter. “Not up for pest control? Ah well. Would yeh rather a stick?” he suggested. Rhiannon nodded and whuffed happily, and Hagrid bent over to rummage in the undergrowth as she resolutely ignored the sounds of Dudley and his meal. The big man came up bearing a sturdy stick, more like part of a small branch, and waved it in front of Rhiannon who yipped and danced for it as he held it out of reach.

“A’ight, everyone, if you want to chuck it for her you gotta put yer gloves on, in case ye nick yerselves on the bark. Come on, out ye pockets with ‘em, I got spares if yeh forgot.” Hagrid ordered them all sternly. Rhiannon’s human companions all fished gloves out of their pockets and pulled them on, and Hagrid lobbed the stick through the trees. Rhiannon dashed off after it yipping gleefully while her friends laughed.

Eventually, they made their way right through the forest to the lakeside. Rhiannon lost track of time splashing and playing with her friends, and eventually Dudley rejoined them as well. She tackled him into the water and splashed him until he cleaned himself off, bothered by the smell of blood – and not just in the human way. It made her want to hunt, and she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Maybe she’d never be ready for that.

When everyone was thoroughly soaked and tired, whether they went on two legs or four,, Hagrid led them back to his cabin by a different route, across the highlands rather than through the trees. Rhiannon sniffed around curiously, finding the smells changed from last year with the time away and the changing seasons, but something else was out of place. Dog smell. Not Professor Lupin – she’d have understood that had she found it. This was a plain old, regular dog – which would have been ordinary enough anywhere else, except that this was Hogwarts and it was on the opposite side of the castle from the road to the village. They got kneazles and knarls, crups, porlocks, nixies and pixies, unicorns and winged horses of several shapes – all kinds of magical creatures great and small, fierce and friendly, but hardly ever something as mundane as a feral dog. So the smell was out of place, and Rhiannon trotted off with her nose to the ground, frowning as best she could in search of its’ source.

Rhiannon tracked the scent away from the others, all the way across the highlands to a stand of scrubby trees and shrubs. Here the dog-scent was heavy, and she found clumps of hair caught on the branches of the bushes, wiry and mixed black and grey. And something else – blood-scent. Not just the dog’s, though she found that and the smell of infection alike – the scent of a kill. This was older, near to rotting, but she still recoiled from it as it aroused the same hunter’s instincts Dudley’s dead mink had. She sniffed around in the underbrush, firmly tamping down Nyx’s desire to hunt as she did so, in search of whatever the dog had left.

Beneath the bushes, amongst flattened grass and tangled roots, were the remains of what Rhiannon guessed to be a small deer, probably a native roe, many of its bones chewed and broken. The marks of teeth were plain on the carcass, but as she paid attention now there was human scent here, strangely similar to and mingled with the dog’s. She whined loudly, then howled for Hagrid’s attention – this was beyond her skills or knowledge.

Hagrid arrived with her friends in tow, their footsteps suddenly loud in the comparative quiet of an hour or so before dawn. Hagrid frowned at her, bewildered. “What is it, Rhi? Yeh found somethin’?”

Rhiannon nodded and yipped, impatiently leading him over to the bush and the remains of the deer. She jerked her head at it and whined again, until Hagrid stumped over and prodded around with his staff, his frown deepening into a scowl. “Teeth marks... Wolf? Nah, this is too far out for the forest pack... And they’re not righ’ anyway. What’s a dog doing out here? It is a dog, isn’t it – you can smell th’ difference?”he mused, turning his head to ask. Rhiannon nodded, then cocked her head and shrugged. “It’s not a dog?” he asked her, and she shook her head hastily. “So it’s a dog, but there’s somethin’ weird about it?”

At that, Rhiannon nodded, and Hagrid’s thoughtful scowl darkened. “I wonder... No... No. We have to get back to the castle. Don’t go pokin’ your nose here again, ‘m serious.” he warned her sternly. Rhiannon whined and flattened her ears, but Hagrid did not budge. “That goes for both o’ ye. Now, c’mon, all o’ yeh, we got t’ beat the sun.” he added, and beckoned them all along with him as he stubbornly turned his back on the stand of greenery and headed back towards the castle.

Rhiannon glanced over her shoulder at the little grove as they left it, and Dudley tilted his head at her curiously. Why would a dog and a human be mixed up together like that? And what did Hagrid know about it? She longed to ask him, but that was impossible in her current shape. And later... he’d be on his guard again, it would be too difficult to ask him then. The mystery would just have to wait, she decided, as she padded at an easy ambling pace across the hillside. She’d find out eventually. She was determined to.