After the initial upset, the three werewolves settled themselves out and even Remus began to enjoy himself on their nocturnal adventures. As she got more used to his presence and strange appearance, Rhiannon’s wariness evaporated in favour of intense sympathy. While he didn’t feel comfortable discussing it openly, Rhiannon gathered from his inferences and whispered conversations with Hagrid that Remus had been abusing spells and potions to repress the bleedthrough almost completely. Even his wolfish instincts were squashed – being taught that the werewolf was a monster as a child, any breakthrough of wolf thoughts disturbed Remus intensely and he sought to eliminate it. As Rhiannon had noticed, his eyes lacked the tapetum lucidum a crepuscular creature such as a wolf should have had, the result of several risky charms and experimental potions that left his eyesight very poor and shadowy – as Hagrid pointed out sternly, that reflective capability wasn’t just there for show it was a fundamental part of how their eyes were supposed to process light and in eliminating it, he was crippling their function.

Where she had feared him so immensely as to attack him at first, Rhiannon now felt miserable on his behalf. How must it have felt, for him to see her Boggart take the shape of a creature like him? For her worst fear to, in essence, be becoming what he already was? Now that she was calm Rhiannon could see the obvious differences between the sickly Remus and the sadistic predatory werewolves who had hunted her, but in her panic she had been unable to see them – and she suspected that self-loathing blinded Remus just the same.

On the final night of the April full moon, Remus brought a photograph with him to Hagrid’s cabin for what was becoming their nightly ritual of tea before their transformation. He showed it to Rhiannon and Dudley almost shyly, as if embarrassed at being perceived at all, and explained that he was usually the one behind the camera, not the subject, but his friends had insisted they take a picture together on the final full moon before they all left school.

The image, moving as most wizarding photographs did, depicted a handsome werewolf with a thick coat of mixed brown shades, clearly Remus himself in good health, surrounded by three young men and a woman in human shape. One of the men was unmistakeably Rhiannon’s biological father James, his hair longer than in the picture she’d seen in Gringotts and wild just like hers was, the woman clearly Lily with her mass of wavy red hair tied back from her face. Beside them, an arm slung over Remus’ shoulders with their faces smushed together, was an androgynously beautiful young man with fair skin and untidy black hair even longer than Ron’s had gotten lately who, by his position, could only be Sirius Black. And far to the other side was a short, fair-haired young man with a weak chin and anxious expression that Remus hesitantly pointed out as Peter Pettigrew. His name weighed on them both like lead with the possibility of his guilt, but stronger than that was the hope the photograph brought with it. Remus had been a strong, ordinary werewolf once, before adulthood in a society that treated him like a monster had destroyed his health. His misshapen form had come about over time, rather than being due to some inherent wrongness in him. And that meant that, with time, he could likely return to health – perhaps never the same, but at least to a regular shape.

Buoyed by that hope, Rhiannon resolved to look out for Remus’ health and returned to the castle for the rest of the holidays in good spirits. Luna and Hermione, disregarding rules while classes weren’t in session, camped out in the Gryffindor common room to keep Rhiannon company, though Dudley declined to join them. “I’ve too much dignity for that, find another fourth wheel,” he told them firmly, before bursting out laughing at the expressions on their faces and wandering away. With so few people in the castle, they soon discovered that their options for activities were much broader than usual and Rhiannon even convinced both Luna and Hermione to borrow two of the spare quidditch brooms one afternoon and fly out over the lake. Hermione was a nervous flier and stuck closely to Rhiannon’s side, while Luna grew quickly more confident and darted back and forth gleefully mimicking tricks xe had seen the quidditch players pull off over the year with increasing success.

Finally, it was time for school to start back up again, and Hermione and Luna reluctantly returned to their own dormitories as the other students came back. The workload intensified immediately, with less than a month until the junior students’ exams, and Rhiannon put her foot down about Hermione’s stress levels when she heard from Ron that Hermione had lost her temper with Professor Trelawney and walked out of class. After a visit to Madam Pomfrey, Hermione’s glasses were drastically updated with much thicker lenses and she was promptly removed from the Divination class register, and finally she left the Hospital Wing with a prescription for anxiety medication and a stern warning that she might not be permitted to sit all her other exams if she made herself too sick.

Somewhat comforted now that she wasn’t the only one aware of Hermione’s impending burnout, Rhiannon returned to classes refreshed and focused. As usual she struggled in some of her subjects – she enjoyed Herbology but many of the plants were unsafe for her, she’d never been very good at Transfiguration and wasn’t at all sure she’d even pass the exam when she struggled to comprehend the sciences involved, and Professor Snape made Potions even more miserable than usual – now that he was aware a werewolf was in his class he intentionally set potions that would provoke different reactions in werewolves than in humans or contained ingredients toxic to her. But Rhiannon refused to let him ruin the rest of her year with his bullying. There was no deadly crisis this year, and that meant there were exams to sit and an end of year feast to look forward to – she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her failure.

As Rhiannon stubbornly immersed herself in her work, April wore on into May and all at once the exams were upon them and the full moon not far behind. Resignedly, Rhiannon kept her head down and bulled her way through her exams powered by sheer willpower, reassured by the knowledge that at least if she did too poorly Minerva would factor in the full moon’s influence and allow her to re-sit at a better time.

The first night of the full moon began the day after exams did, and already Remus seemed better – at least mentally, if not physically. He seemed almost excited to be going out with them, and there was a spring in his limping step as they made their way down the hill to Hagrid’s cabin. And as they roamed across the broad expanse of the Hogwarts werewolves’ territory to the lakeshore, he was the first one in the water, scattering plimpies everywhere and startling an irritable murtlap from its rocky nest as he splashed along the shoreline.

In fact, the first few nights of the full moon went so well that Remus even relented his ‘no humans’ rule. He wasn’t comfortable close to them, but he felt bad about separating Rhiannon and Dudley from their usual pack and decided it would be alright if their friends learned of his lycanthropy and joined them for what little remained of the full moon, so long as they hung far enough back while he stayed close to Hagrid’s side.

Friday the 7^th of May dawned drizzly and briskly cold, with a biting frost in the air that the rain couldn’t quite dampen. The low-lying lands below the castle hill were thickly blanketed with fog, and Rhiannon fizzed with energy despite little sleep as she crawled out of bed and limped to fetch her uniform and toiletries, favouring her right knee which had dislocated itself in the night. Resolving to put it back in place in the shower, Rhiannon hobbled into the bathroom with her arms full of towel and clothing. Unable to see over her pile, Rhiannon ran straight into Lavender in the middle of the bathroom and stopped, bewildered. She ran into people often enough – it was hard to see around full moons – but usually going in and out of doors. Lavender was standing in the middle of the bathroom, hands clenched into fists so tight Rhiannon could smell blood where her nails dug in, staring blankly into space, her hair and clothes alike dripping water onto the tiled stone floor.

“Lavender? Lav, what’s going on?” Rhiannon asked, tossing her belongings to the side and limping forward to catch hold of her friend’s shoulders. “How long h-h-h-h-a-a-ave you been in here, you’re free-e-e-e-e-z-z-z-zing!”

Lavender blinked slowly, dazedly, and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. As Rhiannon peered more closely, she noticed the blonde girl’s pupils were different sizes and she didn’t seem to be quite aware of Rhiannon’s presence. Suddenly, she took a great gasp of air and seemed to become more aware, though her eyes were still unfocused, and she took hold of Rhiannon’s upper arms in a death grip. “Rhiannon. Rhiannon, something bad, it’s going to happen tonight. It’s all going to happen tonight, at the Whomping Willow.” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Rhiannon blinked and shook her head, bewildered by the sudden change. “Uh – Lav, that d-d-d-d-doess-s-sn’t answer the question, are you alright?” she asked again.

Lavender growled, not quite the way a werewolf might but it was certainly a stronger expression of frustration than the normally very contained girl would allow herself. “That’s not the point! Rhiannon, you have to listen, you have to. Something bad will happen tonight, lives may be ended, all at the Whomping Willow. Promise me you’ll stay on guard. Promise me you’ll take your potion.” she insisted, her nails digging into Rhiannon’s wiry biceps.

“Simple, we’ll go to the lake instead of the Whomping Willow,” Rhiannon replied flippantly, fighting back a shiver. The desperation, the certainty in her usually so even-keeled friend’s croaky voice was incredibly unnerving, it was all Rhiannon could do not to turn and run. But Lavender was inexorable, her grip shaking now as she forced Rhiannon to face her.

“That’s not enough. You can’t just go somewhere else and avoid it. You have to be ready. You have to stay with your friends – don’t get separated. And you have to remember your potion. Promise me you’ll keep watch, and stay together.” Lavender whispered, her eyelids fluttering as she swayed on her feet.

“I promise!” Rhiannon replied at last, overwhelmingly worried for her friend and extremely disconcerted by the outburst. Something bothered her about it, but her protective concern took precedence and she slung an arm around Lavender’s waist and the other girl’s arm over her shoulders, grabbed her cane from where she’d dropped it and, balancing carefully, wiggled her leg around until her knee clunked painfully back into place. “But I still t-t-t-think you need to see Madam Pomfrey. C’mon, let’s go downstairs, if-f-f-f-f if we hurry I can still have a shower.”

Even after she had delivered Lavender safely to the hospital wing, Rhiannon still felt ill at ease. The warning hung heavily on her, like a weighted cloak about her shoulders, but she kept it to herself for fear of seeming silly or superstitious. She’d stopped taking Divination because she thought the subject was ridiculous, there was no way a teenager could have predicted the future. Lavender must have just had a bad night with all the exam stress.

But even by rationalising it, the unease brought on by Lavender’s warning would not subside entirely, and even long after Rhiannon had forgotten the cause it haunted her throughout the day, leaving her a worn-out, anxious mess by time evening finally came. It wasn’t until Luna, Hermione, Ginny and Dudley came to fetch her and Ron from Gryffindor Tower that Rhiannon finally managed to relax, and settle into step with her friends as the six of them made their way downstairs and then out of the castle.

By the time the six teenagers arrived, Remus and Hagrid were already seated outside on the ground, drinking tea and talking quietly. To one side, Hagrid had an enormous wicker basket that smelled distinctly like food, and he grinned as they approached him. “Hey, kids. Figured yeh had to rush or skip teatime t’ get down here, so I got ye’s this from the kitchens. Yeh can go sit on the hill or wherever an’ have somethin’ t’ eat, then come back here when it’s time, yeah? Call it a celebration for finishin’ yer exams.”

Rhiannon grinned, bobbing in place as she thought back on the last picnic they’d all shared, the memory that had powered Luna’s first Patronus. A chance to bring even a little bit of that back – how could she pass that up? “That-that-th-that’d be great!” she stammered, clapping her cupped hands together to make a hollow sound.

Hagrid beamed, and nudged the picnic basket over to where any of them could collect it. “Enjoy yerselves – you too, Remus. I’ve got t’ feed that little two-headed rotter and if any of you werewolves are around, he’s gonna be too busy chasin’ yer toes for me t’ get any food in!” he replied, then stood and helped Remus up as well. Ron and Hermione both took hold of the picnic basket and, chaperoned by Remus, they all left their backpacks beside the cabin and set off in the direction of the low grassy knoll Hagrid had indicated, where they could catch the last of the sunlight as they ate.

“Hey, Rhi, this weird thing happened today,” Ron said as they all settled themselves down on the top of the small hill to watch the sun set. “So we had Divination exams this afternoon, right? And they’re individual. So I was up last cos, surname, and Trelawney gets me to go through the crystal ball stuff and the tea leaves and I know it all so I’m just going through the other stuff she said to work on, and I realise she’s gone quiet. So I look up and she’s slumped over at her desk. I go to like, check she’s still breathing and that, right? And all a sudden she grabs me, I’ve still got a bruise on my wrist, and starts speaking in this awful hoarse voice like she can’t breathe.” Ron recounted with a shudder. “It was weird.”

Rhiannon felt suddenly cold, as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. She didn’t believe in prophecies, as a rule, but two warnings was too much to be coincidence. “Wh-wh-what di-i-id she tell you?” she asked slowly, slurring her words. She wasn’t really sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Ron scratched their head and blew a lock of hair out of their eyes. “That was the weirdest bit, there was a lot of back and forth like she wasn’t sure. She contradicted herself a bunch of times, cut herself off. But what she went with finally was... hang on, let me think... ""It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight, before midnight, the servant will set out to rejoin his master..."." Yeah, that was it, she seemed sure of that, it just took a bit to get it out.” they replied with a frown.

It was as if someone had reached into Rhiannon’s chest and gripped her heart in a fist of ice. Every pulse of her heartbeat spread the chill further throughout her body, and she trembled as she sat cross-legged on the grass. Lavender had warned her too. She didn’t remember the warning, she’d spent all day stressing about it and couldn’t even remember what it was about! All she remembered was that something bad would happen, and it would be tonight. And Professor Trelawney’s own prediction lined up too well with that. “No, we’ve got t’ – g-g-g-got t’ – t’ go back,” Rhiannon stammered, feeling around for her cane.

Hermione reached across the blanket and took hold of Rhiannon’s wrist, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm against her pulse point. “Rhi, it’s alright. Settle down. You quit Divination way before I did ‘cause it was nonsense, you’re just stressing yourself out. C’mon, even I can smell that Hagrid got us something nice, at least eat before you head back,” she wheedled.

Slowly, Rhiannon’s breathing settled back into a more regular rhythm, and Hermione scooted over so that Rhiannon could lean against her shoulder rather than keep reaching over the empty space. Remus sighed and shook his head, wryly amused. “Exam stress, probably. The thing about Divination is, it’s a genuine gift and I know Professor Trelawney has it. But it’s not precise. Things don’t happen the way you might think, or they’ve put together the wrong sequence of events – you just never know. There’s no point stressing yourself over it unless you’re the one seeing things yourself, alright?” he advised her gently. “Now, let’s see what Hagrid’s got us.”

And with that, Remus threw open the wicker basket and peered inside, then reeled back in shock as out of it came not only the delicious smells of a picnic dinner, but the tiny pink clawed paw of some animal Rhiannon couldn’t quite see, then another paw – this one missing a toe – and finally the tiny, brown, beady-eyed head of a rat. “That’s...” he whispered, holding his hand to his chest as if he struggled to breathe while the rat sat at the edge of the basket, its eyes darting from side to side.

Ron leaned across, and let out a cry of delight. “Scabbers!” they exclaimed, seizing the rat from the basket and clutching it to their chest. “Oh, you little bastard! I’m sorry I ever called you boring!” they crooned, scratching the rat’s head as they cradled its small body in the crook of their arm.

“Ronald,” Remus began, gasping for breath. “That’s not – that’s -” he stammered, gesturing at the rat with his free hand.

Ron blinked, bewildered, and held up the rat in both hands. “Uh, Professor? It’s a rat. Common garden rat, doesn’t even have any magical powers. See?” they said, holding it out for Remus’ inspection. Remus sat upright and patted his jacket, searching for something – his wand, but why?

They never got a chance to find out. As Ron held Scabbers up for inspection, the rat objected and sank his teeth into Ron’s finger, drawing forth a sharp coppery flow of blood. “Ow, you little shit!” Ron gasped, clutching their injured hand to their stomach, but it was too late – they’d loosened their grip and all of a sudden the rat was off, scuttling across the hilltop away from them as fast as its tiny legs could take it. Ron leapt to their feet and dashed off in pursuit, but their speed was limited for fear of treading on the creature. “I’m not losing him again!” they called back over their shoulder.

Remus heaved himself to his feet, still struggling for breath. “I didn’t quite believe... not until I saw...” he whispered, shaking. “Come on, move, move! That’s not a rat – Ronald’s in danger!” he urged them, waving his arms to hurry them on faster as he set off after Ron.

Suddenly in her head, sluggish with anxiety and the full moon as it was, Rhiannon began to see the shape of the mystery falling into place around her. Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs... They’d become Animagi to support Remus which made Wormtail... of course. Rhiannon leapt to her feet and immediately staggered forward into Ginny as her hip gave way. “Shit, sorry,” she hissed, but Ginny grinned and shook her head. “Remus is-s-s-s- he’s right, damnit, that’s a wizard, come on!”

With that, the rest of Rhiannon’s friends got to their feet. Ginny let Dudley lean on her shoulder, while Luna and Hermione took a place either side of Rhiannon to do the same as they set off after Ron, Remus and the rat Animagus at a shambling run. ‘Scabbers’ led them on a merry chase across the fields, right around the castle, until looming against the horizon was the subject of Lavender’s warning, remembered now as it stood before them. But there was no time to fret, she had to get to Ron, who she could see now lit by the last rays of sun halfway up the hill.

“Scabbers!” Ron panted, bending down to grab at the rat – Rhiannon couldn’t see it, only Ron’s movements, but she squinted and it looked as if Ron had hold of him once again as they cradled something in their arms against their chest. “What’s got into you?”

“Ronald!” Remus gasped, reduced to a weak hobble as he made his way up the hill. “That’s not a rat, you’ve got to listen to me! I can prove it! No wonder he attacked you, he was sleeping in your room the whole time... he must be after him!”

Ron shook their head, backing away. Rhiannon felt a pang of sympathy for Remus, suddenly seeing the whole picture while the rest of their friends remained in the dark. “Ron, I – I think he’s r-r-r-right,” she called out. “That’s Peter – Peter Pettigrew!”

And as she said the words, Rhiannon felt a sudden hot flush of embarrassment as she realised how ridiculous it sounded. If given more time she could have explained how she came to that conclusion, but right now she had to convince Ron before the rat bit them again – it was pretty hard to hold onto a small creature with teeth when that creature didn’t want to be held. But it was taken out of her hands as all of a sudden a rank, familiarly animal scent flooded her nostrils and a massive black shape bounded out of the shadow of the tree, hackles raised as it charged towards Ron. Rhiannon felt sick in her stomach, as more of the mystery suddenly made sense. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. A werewolf, a rat, a dog and a stag. If Remus was the werewolf and Pettigrew the rat then... that left Sirius Black and her father, the dog and the stag – and there was no chance that it was her father who stood before them now.

As Rhiannon came to the realisation that she’d been seeing traces of Sirius Black for months without knowing, the man himself bounded down the hill and struck Ron in the chest with his forepaws and sniffed at their clothing, as evidently Scabbers had vanished – perhaps into the lining of their coat, but if it had been into the grass Rhiannon guessed Sirius would have raced off after him. A rat had no chance in a foot race against what, by Rhiannon’s guess, looked to be a wolfhound – a sighthound born to hunt. No, he’d have hidden, and Rhiannon’s guess was confirmed as the dog – Sirius, the dog star, of course, Rhiannon thought with a grimace – grabbed hold of Ron’s pant leg in its mouth and, before any of them could do anything, began to drag him up the hill towards the Whomping Willow at its crest. And then they vanished from view, reminding Rhiannon of something from months ago. A secret passage marked on the Marauder’s Map came up under the Whomping Willow.

“I don’t th-h-th-th-in-n-n-k he’s g-going to hurt them but, we’ve got t-t-t-t-t-to get in there!” Rhiannon yelled to Dudley and Ginny, and with Hermione and Luna’s help she hurried up the hill towards the Willow. But as they drew closer, the tree’s branches stirred and began to thrash threateningly, and Rhiannon narrowly avoiding getting knocked flat by a branch as she and her friends tried to get closer.

“There’s a knot on the trunk,” Remus panted, having limped up the hill behind them by himself. “It sort of makes the tree ordinary for a few minutes, hitting it again as you go in undoes it. Miss Weasley – you’re the smallest, besides Rhiannon – and none of us could make it like this, at least not until we’re on four legs. Duck your head, keep your arms close to your body and get that knot there, just to the right of the tunnel. And hurry,” he ordered.

Galvanised into action, Ginny helped Dudley stand up straight before leaving him and pacing forward to size up the tree as Remus pointed out the knot to her. Then she tucked her head down and bolted straight at the trunk.

The first try, a branch caught Ginny in the gut and knocked her flat on her back. Remus had to hold Dudley back as he rushed forward to help her, shaking his head grimly. Ginny peeled herself off the ground and darted forward again, slamming her palm into the knot just before she was struck in the back by a branch. The rest of them cheered and she returned to Dudley’s side, and then the six of them crowded down into the tunnel in pursuit of Ron.

At least there was no chance of getting lost. The tunnel was rough stone and unbroken by any side passages, its floor thick with dust from disuse save for a wide track where evidently Ron had been dragged through. Remus took the lead, and Luna stepped forward to assist him wordlessly when the tunnel began to slope upwards and his pace slowed. Finally, they came to a heavy wooden door bound with steel bands that stood slightly ajar, its construction reminding Rhiannon of the door into the chamber where the Philosopher’s Stone had been hidden in her first year. Remus shuddered but with Luna’s help he shoved the door the rest of the way open and the rest of them filed inside behind him.

Rhiannon’s nostrils tingled and she saw Dudley crumple as if punched as he too took in the scents that lingered in the dusty room they found themselves in. Dust, the fresh scents of Ron and Sirius Black... but older than that there was blood and worse, fear – the pure, undiluted terror of a wild animal trapped with no way out. It was old fear, old blood, but the senses it gave off were so raw they had soaked into the very wood of the building, and Rhiannon hugged herself as she stepped aside to let the door swing partially closed behind her. “This is...” she whispered, turning to Remus in horror.

“Where they kept me, yes,” Remus murmured dully. “The Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to school, to guard this tunnel.”

Rhiannon felt a lance of pain in her heart at the thought of being trapped in here as Nyx, but she shook it off. Over time, she could help Remus heal – maybe. But right now, they didn’t have time, and she had to prioritise. She peered down at the floor and, sure enough, there was a clear trail through the building. Remus insisted on leading once again, and they shuffled awkwardly through into a cramped room with an upturned table and a flight of stairs leading up. The trail of dust did too. This time, Rhiannon put her foot down and went first, being stronger, while Remus and Luna followed and Dudley brought up the rear with Ginny. She felt in her pocket for her wand and lit it with a murmur, as they stepped onto a landing and followed the trail into a ramshackle bedroom.

Lying upon the moth-eaten cover of the bed was a grey-faced Ron, bleeding from under their hair and with their leg propped up on a pillow. “No, don’t- it’s him!” they gasped, frantically motioning them back.

Rhiannon gripped her wand tighter but she was too slow, as out of the shadows stepped a terribly thin man, his pale skin yellowed with illness and his long black hair knotted and filthy. He carried Ron’s borrowed wand in his hand, and with a wordless flick he disarmed their group and collected the flying wands with a neat flick of the wrist that told Rhiannon he had played Quidditch at some point, probably Chaser. Despite Rhiannon knowing him to be only thirty, she could easily have mistaken the man to be twenty years older or even more, hardly recognisable from the laughing, almost girlishly pretty man who’d cuddled up to a wolf-shaped Remus in the photograph. But it could only be him – Sirius Black.

Whatever retort Rhiannon might have given – and several occurred to her – was set aside, as Remus shoved his way through the crowd of teenagers to Sirius. He took the taller man by the arms and held him at arms’ length, tears spilling down his cheeks even as his face spread into the brightest smile Rhiannon had ever seen from him, his lips moving soundlessly as he stood before the man he’d loved. And in seeing him, a light was brought to Sirius Black’s battered face and he smiled, finally resembling the laughing boy in that photograph, tears falling freely from his eyes. The two men embraced tightly, still crying and half-laughing, then pulled away, each cradling the others’ face gently as they let their foreheads rest together without care of dirt or anyone watching. And then all at once they were kissing and holding eachother so tightly Rhiannon worried for Remus’ health even as she looked down at the floor. It wasn’t as if no time had passed – ten years of sorrow couldn’t be erased. But it was as if suddenly each man saw his life given back to him and they radiated such joy that Rhiannon couldn’t even be embarrassed by the display. In that moment she hoped, more than anything she’d hoped in a long time, that Sirius Black was innocent. She couldn’t bear to tear them apart again.