Much to Rhiannon’s relief, their ruse worked and she spent two or so hours in a surprisingly enjoyable singing lesson with Miss Finn. When Professor Snape came storming in, a frantic Draco Malfoy in tow, the effusive redheaded professor of the arts told only the truth – for the last two hours, Rhiannon had been in the music class while her friends were in Hogsmeade. Rhiannon hated lying like that, making Draco doubt what he’d seen – she hadn’t meant to hurt him or even scare him so badly, she’d just reacted when he came up to the group and started hassling them out of nowhere. But she’d still done it, and it didn’t sit right with her to hide her secret in that way.

It was a pointless sort of guilt, but it nagged at Rhiannon’s conscience all the same. Still, there was nothing she could do about it for now, and she was glad when a timely distraction came in the form of a note from Professor Lupin inviting her and her friends, particularly Ron and Neville, to a lesson on the charm that could help them face Dementors.

Their lesson was scheduled for a Tuesday, the 27^th of September, and Rhiannon’s guilt was shoved aside to be replaced by apprehensive excitement as the week wore on. There was a Quidditch match that weekend, though as Rhiannon’s broom was still being examined she again played Chaser alongside Ron and Angelina, while this time Harry played Seeker in her place. To Rhiannon’s embarrassment, they were soundly thrashed by the new Slytherin team. Captain Adrienne was a good sport about it, but the Gryffindor team were still disappointed by the loss, and few more so than Rhiannon herself. She couldn’t shake the worry that she was letting them down, that if they didn’t have a Seeker who was such a target, maybe a new broom wouldn’t have looked so suspicious – maybe she could have just played on as usual. And maybe they’d have won.

Fortunately for Rhiannon’s mental health, their private lesson was scheduled for only two days after the Quidditch match, leaving her little time to stew. So after a wretched Potions class on the 27^th, Rhiannon, along with Hermione, Morag, Neville and Ron, set off through the castle to the Defence classroom. They’d got most of the way there, when Rhiannon realised she’d left some of her books in Potions by mistake.

“I’ll catch up,” she reassured her friends, and hurried back down the twisting corridors toward the dungeons. As she drew nearer, an out-of-place sound caught Rhiannon’s attention and she tilted her head curiously. Crying? Ordinarily she might have guessed it to be Neville, as Professor Snape’s newest form of bullying was to ban use of his communication tablet in class... but Neville was fine, he was upstairs with Ron and the others. Rhiannon frowned to herself as she drew nearer to the sound, and knocked quietly on the wall so as not to startle whoever it was. “Hey, it’s Rhiannon. C-can I help at all?” she asked, her voice cracking uncomfortably as she tried to keep it quiet.

Someone blew their nose and sniffed miserably, then coughed a bit before speaking. “Oh – Rhi, thank God,” they whispered. Lavender? Rhiannon’s frown deepened, and she padded closer to where Lavender sat in the corner of a dead-end hallway not far from the classroom. “I’m sorry – you shouldn’t have to deal with me like this.”

Rhiannon shook her head, a wry smile drawing up the corners of her lips. “I – I know the feeling. But that’s what friends do. So, can I help?” she asked again. With a wince and a soft groan she leaned heavily on her cane and used it to lower herself to the floor, leaning back against the wall beside Lavender.

“This is – gonna sound really bad, I’m sorry – it’s, family stuff. I, um... I got a letter from my Dad at breakfast and I only really had time to look at it now, and – Mum got turned. Dad bit her by accident, grabbed at a – a frisbee or something. I’m not mad at him, that’s not it,” Lavender hastily assured Rhiannon, and wiped her streaming eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s – the rest of the family. Mum’s a Fawley. Sacred Twenty-Eight, only she got cut out of the house when she married Dad, but – she still talks to her sister sometimes and – and she went to Saint Mungo’s for the bite but they told her family, and now the whole house knows, and they’re making a big mess about it and – I’m scared she and Dad are gonna split up. He says she’s not talking to him, she just locked herself in her room and – I don’t know what to do! I’m – I’m sorry, it’s really just – I’m sorry,” she trailed off, sniffing and mumbling apologies.

Rhiannon shook her head and reached out hesitantly to hold Lavender’s hand. “No, it’s-it’s-it’s – fine. I mean, it’s n-n-n-ot fine but, I’m not upset. I know the wizarding world’s weird about w-w-w-werewolves, I’m – I’m really lucky I don’t have to deal with that yet, but I’ve done – some stuff I’m not so proud of to keep it that way. I know I’m kind of stiff and clumsy but I’m here for you, however you need, just – tell me. I can, um – if you like, I can talk to Hagrid and my foster-dad, they might know of some support things for new werewolves. Or you can tell your dad to talk to them, I don’t know, um... I’m sorry. Family stuff isn’t... I’m not so good at that, but – sorry. I’m rambling. I’m here for you, I’ll – leave it at that.” she finished, ducking her head to hide a flush of embarrassment behind her hair.

Lavender giggled and coughed again, but she was smiling now and the tears were beginning to dry on her cheeks. “Thanks, Rhi. I think I’ll be okay, I just – needed to get it all out, I guess. It’s not like I can do anything about it from here, I just need to - keep myself busy while they sort things out.” she replied.

Rhiannon brightened, an idea suddenly occurring to her. “Well, uh – if you’re alright for it, me and some of the others were going to have a private lesson with Professor Lupin. He’s going to teach us something to help with Dementors, some kind of charm? He said it’s really hard, but, there’s no harm trying. I-I-I’d like to, dunno – have something to defend myself with.” she suggested, fidgeting awkwardly in place.

Slowly, Lavender’s own smile grew more confident, and she beamed at Rhiannon before hauling herself to her feet and holding out both hands to help the other girl up. “That sounds like exactly the kind of distraction I need.” she agreed, some of her usual cynical cheer creeping back into her voice. “You saw my Boggart, you can imagine the kinds of things the Dementors make me see. It’d be nice to have one over them for once.”

With that decided, the two of them set off back upstairs at an unhurried pace, chatting quietly about what they thought Professor Lupin’s charm might be. “Maybe it’s a special kind of shield charm?” Lavender wondered aloud. Rhiannon bounced a few steps and clapped her hands together – well, one hand against her cane, her mind running ahead with possibilities.

“Ooh, but there’s s-s-s-so many ways of modifying a shield! Professor Flitwick’s showed us the basic charm, but you could change what powers it, or the shape, you could even make it smaller and swing it around! Or it could be something c-c-c-ompletely different – like how we repel Boggarts!” Rhiannon replied excitedly, almost tripping over her cane as she skipped clunkily down the corridor. Lavender giggled, and skipped ahead to catch up with her werewolf friend.

“Trust you to get all excited about new magic! No wonder you and Hermione get on so well,” Lavender said, grinning sidelong as Rhiannon’s cheeks flushed.

“Th-that’s why we’re friends!” Rhiannon replied hastily, and rather than face any continued teasing she picked up the pace and hauled herself up a short flight of half-spiralling stairs. Then, out of breath, she took a moment to lean on the wall and compose herself, as she heard her friends chattering with Professor Lupin a short way down the hall.

“I was going to tease you, but I don’t feel like getting bit. Maybe later, if I get jealous of my parents having fun on full moons without me? Anyway. Let’s just – let me help you, I can hear them just up ahead.” Lavender finished, and she slung Rhiannon’s free arm over her shoulder to help her up the hallway. Rhiannon grumbled, both at the teasing and the assistance, but she grudgingly accepted the help and soon they found themselves in the Defence classroom.

The classroom had been cleared, desks and chairs stacked at the sides with a tall closet taking up space at the head of the room just as it had in one of their early lessons. Rhiannon shifted anxiously, already getting a sense of what the lesson would be. “Oh, not Boggarts…” she murmured, fighting the urge to flee the room.

Professor Lupin looked up and smiled brightly when he caught sight of Lavender and Rhiannon. “Yes, indeed, Boggarts,” he agreed, beckoning them over to where Hermione, Morag, Neville and Ron, along with Luna and Ginny who had evidently joined them on the way, were seated in a loose circle on the floor with him. “See, Boggarts and Dementors feed on roughly the same things – your worst memories, your fears, they’re very similar. The charm I’m thinking of, while it’s intended for use on Dementors, can be used on particularly vicious Boggarts too and it’s a lot safer to use one of them for practice than to borrow one of our esteemed, overvigilant guards.” he explained, with a scowl as he mentioned the Dementors’ position.

Rhiannon grimaced, and hugged herself as she sat down on the floor between Luna and Hermione. “Makes sense,” she grumbled, and make sense it did, but she didn’t have to like it. Luna grimaced sympathetically and Hermione shrugged, tapping on her knees in an arrhythmic sort of non-pattern. As Rhiannon glanced around the circle, she could see that everyone else looked as tense and fearful as she did. Determined to put on a good showing, she managed a crooked smile in the hopes of reassuring them. “I – I mean, we already know how t-t-t-t-to beat Boggarts, we’ve all s-s-seen eachother’s worst fears already – the worst that happens is we resort to R-r-ridd-dikk-ulus or can’t cast the new charm, right?” she said with a shrug.

Remus clapped his hands cheerfully. “Exactly! There’s no failure here.” he replied, standing as he did so with a cacophony of clunking joints that had Rhiannon covering her sensitive ears and wincing sympathetically. “Now, I know it’s scary to think of anyone else seeing your fear, even if you know they have before. But Boggarts and Dementors alike thrive on isolating you. They want you to be alone with that fear. Together, you’re stronger, charm or no charm. “

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s – something. But we are here to learn the charm, right?” she asked pointedly, gesturing to the wardrobe with the notebook she held in one hand. “Even if I can’t cast it myself yet, Headmaster McGonagall suggested I might be able to research and learn to cast spells using leftover magic or places of power.”

Remus winced, clearly embarrassed. “Oh – of course, sorry, I got carried away. Yes. Anyway, the spell I intend to teach you is the Patronus charm. I doubt any of you will get it straight away, it’s a very advanced spell – well beyond your Ordinary Wizarding Level. But it is well worth learning, and it won’t set off the castle wards if you want to practice on your own time. The key to it isn’t raw magical strength, but emotion. You need to focus on a truly happy memory, the happiest memory you have. That provides power for the spell to draw on, forming a magical shield that in its full form takes an animalian shape.” he explained, sketching silvery animals with his wand in the air as he did so. “Take a few moments to think of that memory, think of projecting it out to protect you. When you are all ready – and only when – I will release the Boggart, and you will use the incantation expecto patronum to cast the spell. If you are unable to drive the Boggart back, don’t worry, it’s just an opportunity for me to demonstrate. Now, get to it!”

With that, Remus hauled himself to his feet with such a chorus of joint cracks that Rhiannon resolved silently to buy him a cane for a late Christmas present, and limped over to lean awkwardly against the wall at the back of the room in an inept attempt to give the students some space. However clumsy it was, Rhiannon appreciated the gesture – even happy memories were still something she wanted some space to think on.

Her happiest memory... a year or two ago, that would have been easy, with so few to choose from. But now, Rhiannon had family, and they made new joyous memories all the time, it almost felt like a disservice to choose just one. It could be the day Hermione’s parents made her and Neville a transgender pride-coloured cake, or the night she danced with Luna bare-pawed in borrowed makeup and a pretty dress, or the day Hermione kissed her for luck. It could be her twelfth birthday party, meeting Ron at the door after he’d run five miles to get there, or the day she, Luna and Dudley got home to find that Xenophilius had converted a television set for them to watch the Lord of the Rings on.

Stuck, Rhiannon opened her eyes and peered around the loose circle at her friends, hoping for some inspiration. All that brought on was more memories, times she’d smiled so much she thought her muscles would cramp up. But one stood out to her, a recent memory. Maybe not a perfect one – she’d been frightened to begin with – but a good, powerfully happy memory. Sunlight in her fur, Hermione’s patient hands stroking her ears, her mind all tangled up with Nyx’s – it was when she’d really lost her fear of the wolf. That had to be the one.

Decided now, Rhiannon rocked in place on the floor as she waited for the others to make their own decisions. Ron’s face was screwed up in consternation, Hermione hugged her knees uncertainly, Ginny chewed the end of her pen, while Luna sat cross-legged and serene-faced a little distant from the rest of them. Rather than interrupt the others in their concentration, Rhiannon dragged herself into a kneeling position and shuffled over to Luna instead, knowing by now that Luna looked xir most expressionless when he was most worried inside.

“H-having trouble finding a happy memory?” Rhiannon asked softly, gently taking one of their hands as Luna picked at a seam on faer trousers.

Luna shrugged uncomfortably. “Yes, and – yes and no. My happiest memories... they were when my mother was alive, and it’s like it – taints them somehow, her being gone. Except for that one full moon last year. But then it feels like it’d be a disservice to choose that over her. Does that make sense?” she whispered back.

Rhiannon bit her lip and laid her free hand flat on the floor in an effort to keep from biting her nails. “I – yeah, I get that,” she murmured, her lips turning down in a small frown. “I think – maybe everyone’s having that problem a bit. You w-w-w-w-wouldn’t think happy memories would be so hard, but, there you go.”

Luna smiled, a crooked lift of vir lips that served more as a grimace than an expression of any real joy. “Well, you would. You get it. Most people, maybe happy memories aren’t so complicated for them.” he replied, with an uncomfortable shrug as she corrected Rhiannon. “And, you’re right – if we’re having this problem, the others are too. Just look at Ronald.” they added, with a gesture to where the aforementioned redhead looked near to tears with indecision and worry. Luna grimaced and shook their head. “Speaking of... It’s not that I don’t like talking with you, but I think they need my help.”

Rhiannon cocked her head curiously, the pronoun catching her attention – and not for the first time. Not my business, she reminded herself firmly, shaking it off. “Oh – alright. Just, look after hi- them, yeah? I c-can kinda imagine what a mess finding a happy memory must be for them, they’re so self-deprecating.” she replied, stubbornly squashing her curiosity yet again. She guessed perhaps Luna knew something – their casual acceptance of everything made him a safe person to go to, even more so than someone like Rhiannon herself – and decided that rather than ask questions Luna could not answer without betraying Ron, or questions Ron was not ready for, she’d simply follow Luna’s lead.

While Luna conferred with Ron, Rhiannon sidled over to where Hermione had progressed to humming tunelessly and biting her nails as she rocked from side to side. “’mione, stop, you’re gonna make yourself bleed,” Rhiannon whispered, gently taking the taller girl’s hand from her mouth and holding it tightly. “If- If you can talk, you can tell me what’s wrong.”

Hermione shook her head miserably, hugging herself with her free arm. “Can’t tell,” she murmured. “Too silly.”

Rhiannon sidled closer and drew Hermione into a tight, sideways hug the way she liked when she was stressed. “’mione, remember I had a freakout about leg hair at a dance. Nothing’s too silly – I promise.” she reassured her softly, gently shaking her to reinforce the point.

Hermione giggled softly, a wet sound that told Rhiannon she was close to tears. “No, it’s – I can’t get this idea out of my head. I’ve got so many good memories, this isn’t even a memory – but I know it’s what I’d use to cast the patronus and it’s not even real.” she mumbled, screwing up her face in embarrassment. At Rhiannon’s gentle nudge she sighed and nuzzled her face into the smaller girl’s mass of curly hair, resting on her bony shoulder.

“It’s... it’s us. Dancing. Like you and Luna did last year, and there’s flowers everywhere and – and I’m sorry I know it’s stupid I know you probably don’t like me like that, I can’t get it out of my head,” Hermione spluttered, a deep flush rising to her cheeks under the warm, bright lighting of the classroom.

Rhiannon could only blink, startled and bewildered and mortified to hear it laid out so plainly in front of her. Dimly, she remembered Hermione’s face that evening – she had been jealous, of course – and Rhiannon had been so caught up in the night that she’d barely registered it. She felt a pang now, thinking back on it, how insensitive she’d been. They’d been dancing around eachother all year, barely starting to acknowledge their feelings – and now that Hermione had bared hers, it didn’t feel right that Rhiannon continued to squash her own, even confusing as they were.

“I- I...” Rhiannon stammered, words running away from her like sand through her fingers. Words weren’t enough to express how much she wanted that too. So maybe – maybe the best thing to do was share her own memory. “The memory I chose – is – that day, in Creatures, when I was Nyx – I don’t remember things clearly, usually, I just remember impressions, strong sensations – but I remember most of that. How happy I was, if that’s e-e-e-e-ev’n a big enough word. With you.” she explained clumsily, begging Hermione to understand. “I – I do li-i-i-i-ike you. Like that.”

Hermione stared at Rhiannon, lifting her head to make eye contact for a brief, rare moment before she let out a soft squeal and hugged the smaller girl so tightly that Rhiannon thought her ribs would pop. Rhiannon giggled and swatted at Hermione’s shoulder until she relented, both laughing.

Hearing them, Remus looked up from the book he’d been half-heartedly perusing and smiled wryly. “I think I can safely guess from the laughter that we’re ready to start?” he teased, and clapped his hands briskly to draw the attention of the others. “First, before you draw your wands, repeat after me – don’t worry Neville, if you’re as good a nonverbal caster as I’ve heard, you’ll be just fine doing it that way – expecto patronum.”

As Professor Lupin indicated, the small group repeated the incantation with varying degrees of success while Ginny muttered to herself and took notes. Once the professor deemed them ready, he arranged them in a semi-circle facing the wardrobe with their wands raised. “Now remember – Boggarts and Dementors alike feed on your fear, and they become stronger by isolating you with it. Stand together, you’ve got this and I’m right here to back you up. Alright – off you go!” he said, and with a flourish of his wand he flung open the doors to the cupboard that held the shape of all their fears.

Out stalked a tall, black-cloaked figure, pale-skinned and dark-haired with its wand extended. A frighteningly accurate mimicry of Professor Severus Snape, right down to the sneer. As the Boggart-Snape prowled closer it bared its teeth in a snarl, shifting into a horrific half-shaped werewolf form with its eyes glowing faintly as they reflected the candlelight. As far as Boggart fear combinations went, that was one of the more frightening ones, and even Rhiannon quailed as she faced it. Something in the way it moved recalled that hunting pack on the full moon of July 2002, circling and slinking ever-closer, lit by firelight... no. No, this was a Boggart, she’d survived that attack, Rhiannon told herself firmly as she stubbornly shook off the creeping chill of fear.

“I survived, fucker!” Rhiannon spat, fury cutting through her fear as she brandished her wand, focusing as hard as she could on the feeling of Hermione’s fingers in her fur, the sunlight washing over them both as her first love murmured gentle comforts. “Expecto patronum!”

As Rhiannon bellowed her spell, a wash of silver light flooded from her wand and enveloped the Boggart, driving it backwards. She felt a pang of disappointment that she had not succeeded the first time, but that was soon pushed aside as Remus cheered. “Fantastic first effort, Rhiannon! Very promising!” he exclaimed, beaming. “Now, back the others up while they take a crack at it.”

Ron was next to take their turn, but as they stepped up with wand extended the Boggart staggered free of the silver cloud and collapsed to the floor, transforming into Ginny’s dead body. “Don’t let it pull, that, Ron! I’m right here!” Ginny snapped, flipping a middle finger in the direction of the Boggart as she scrawled notes with the other hand.

Steeled by the words of their real sister, Ron grit their teeth and raised their wand. “You’re right,” they murmured, baring their teeth in a snarl at the creature. “You don’t need me to save you again. Expecto patronum!”

As with Rhiannon’s spell, a silver cloud billowed out of the wand and swallowed up the Boggart, flickering and twisting like a living thing as the Boggart lost its form and was pushed back towards the wardrobe. “That’s wonderful, Ron!” Remus cried, clapping his hands excitedly. “Fantastic power and focus!”

After Ron, the others took their turns with varying degrees of success. Morag had the power and the intent but struggled to keep her focus on a memory, while Lavender had almost the exact opposite problem. “Whatever memory you’re using, keep it – your problem’s in the power and direction. Just something to work on with your friends,” Remus reassured her. Neville outstripped both Rhiannon and Ron with a thick silver fog that disabled the Boggart for a good ten minutes, while Luna’s Patronus was almost corporeal, easily the best of all of them, and Hermione struggled to produce more than a few silver wisps and sparks. Rhiannon reassured her friend as best she could, sympathising with Hermione’s frustration, but given she had succeeded where Hermione believed she herself had failed, there was little she could do to cheer her up entirely. After a good couple hours of practice, Professor Lupin called a halt to the lesson.

“You should all be very proud of yourselves – yes, that means you too, Miss Ndiaye-Granger, don’t think I don’t see you there! This is an incredibly advanced charm, to produce even a spark on your first try is more than most senior students achieve.” Remus told them firmly as he gathered them back into a loose circle. “And Ginny, I’d be happy to go over your notes and confer with Professor Flitwick further, from what I can see over your shoulder there it looks very promising. Now, rest – if you’ve any homework I’ll be happy to write exemptions for your professors, you’ve extended yourselves quite enough for one evening. Ten points each for all of you so that’s... oh, this is why I’m not an Arithmancy teacher... Forty to Gryffindor, thirty to Miremark, and... oh, why not, fifteen to Hufflepuff for Miss Weasley’s creativity and perseverance. Very well done.”

With that, he shepherded them out of the classroom and into the hall, where they milled about anxiously, unwilling to go their separate ways just yet. “Yo-you’re welcome t-t-t-to come up to Gryffindor tower,” Rhiannon offered awkwardly. “We could read, work on sketches for Mis-s-s-sssss Finn – easy stuff, maybe just until dinner?”

Hermione nodded eagerly, having glued herself to Rhiannon’s side, and even Luna managed a tiny smile. Morag grimaced and shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve got House chores – gotta clean up the fifth-year dorm, I got it with a dungbomb to get Jerry Stretton back for grabbing my ass at breakfast and McGonagall won’t make the elves clean up student pranks.” she replied, an embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks as she looked down at the floor. “Next time I’ll just hex his bed or something,” she grumbled.

Hermione scowled. “Or, and here’s a thought, report him to Headmaster McGonagall?” she suggested drily, the full weight of her scorn clearly intended for the handsy teenage boy rather than the rightfully-displeased Morag.

Morag blinked, then snorted with laughter. “Ah, hell, I completely forgot we have a Headmaster who’ll actually do something other than say ‘boys will be boys’ now,” she replied, shaking her head. “Still kinda want to jinx the creep but... thanks for inviting me along. This was pretty great. See you in class, yeah?” she added, and with a chorus of goodbyes from the others she waved and headed off through the corridors.

Ginny shuffled her feet and shrugged uncomfortably, hanging back as the others drifted off in the direction of the next flight of stairs up. “I- I’d rather not come, if that’s alright. It was really weird when I wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor and you know, I made my peace with that and all but... no thanks. I’ll just go share my notes and paint with Dudley. But, what Morag said – thanks for letting me tag along.”

Rhiannon smiled, understanding at once what Ginny meant. The Gryffindor common room would feel both like a home she should have had and completely foreign to her all at once, and Rhiannon could imagine how that would hurt. “T-t-tell my brother hi for me?” Rhiannon asked, to which Ginny rolled her eyes and grinned and, with a mumbled agreement she too traipsed off on her own.

As they wandered upstairs, Luna nudged Rhiannon gently. “Brother?” he asked, curious rather than judging. Rhiannon flushed and looked at the floor, making a point of keeping her feet on track rather than acknowledge the question. Pointedly, Hermione nudged her this time and Ron frowned.

“I mean, I know he doesn’t bully you anymore but, brother?” Ron grumbled.

Rhiannon halted, brows drawing together in a frown. “Yes!” she snapped, then took a breath to calm herself. “S-s-orry, just... You’ve got to stop, being so suspicious of him. W-w-w-we survived hell together, we live together, we’re the only two werewolves at this school... wolf-brain doesn’t really make-ke-ke-ke the distinction between cousin and brother. He’s my brother. Enough for you?”

Ron winced, and Luna slipped their hand into Rhiannon’s and squeezed gently for comfort. “I apologise. I thought it might have been a slip of the tongue – I called Professor Flitwick ‘Dad’ once, that sort of thing.” she explained with a shrug.

Lavender grinned wickedly. “Does that make Luna your sibling? Since you live with zem too?” she teased. Rhiannon’s flush darkened and bright spots of colour bloomed on Luna’s pale cheeks as suddenly both were pointedly aware of their joined hands. Unsure how to deny that without making her complicated feelings too plain, Rhiannon fixed her gaze pointedly on the ground, almost feeling Hermione radiate discomfort beside her. Lavender cackled, while Ron snickered and even Neville snorted with laughter. “Oh, the three of you should just date already – look at Angelina, Katie and Alicia. What’s stopping you?”

Rhiannon was almost ready to combust with embarrassment when finally they reached the portrait-guarded door of Gryffindor Tower. “No cavorting in the corridors!” the fussy portrait of Sir Cadogan, the new guard in Tina Gryffindor’s absence, scolded them. “Password!”

The five of them, diverted from their teasing, all blinked at eachother in bewilderment. “Uh... didn’ he change it this morning?” Ron asked, to a round of shrugs. Neville bit his lip and shook his head, going red in the face as he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. “Ah, don’t worry Neville, the prick -” “Oi! That’s no way to address a knight!” Sir Cadogan interrupted Ron, offended. They rolled their eyes and pointedly ignored him. “As I was saying, the prick changes them daily and sets the silliest, most complicated ones – we can barely remember them! You’re not stupid ‘cos you can’t either.” Ron reassured Neville.

Lavender hummed quietly, evidently searching her brain. “Antidisestablishmentarianism? No, that was yesterday... Oh! Floccinaucinihilipilification!” she exclaimed, with a mockingly flourished bow directed at the portrait. Begrudgingly, the knight let his portrait swing open to let them pass, though his grey pony took a snap at them in vain as they entered. Lavender snickered to herself. “I remembered that one because it means “the estimation of something as valueless.” Apparently Sir Cadogan may know a lot of long words, but not about the concept of irony?”

At that, all of them laughed and settled themselves in one of the book nooks around the sides of the room to quietly talk, read or draw, whatever each preferred. Professor Lupin had technically forbidden homework, but reading for History was much more interesting than the class itself and hardly strenuous so Rhiannon and Hermione curled up on a couch together to go over Bathilda Bagshot’s Decline of Pagan Magic while Luna leaned against Rhiannon’s other shoulder sketching intently in a small, plain book, shapeless lines slowly turning into a fantastically detailed representation of the scroll end of a violin as Rhiannon glanced at it every so often. Neville sat in a corner chair wielding his wand like a whittling knife as he gradually shaped what looked to be a wooden rabbit, and Rhiannon’s eyes drifted closed in the warmth and comfort of her pack. Her head resting on Hermione’s shoulder and Luna’s sketchbook propped against her curled-up knees, Rhiannon gradually slipped into a comfortable doze, the memories she had drawn on to fuel her Patronus surrounding her like a warm blanket.