Winter grudgingly gave way to Spring, and this Spring made up for the hard winter. Unseasonable warmth rained down on the grounds of Hogwarts with cloudless azure skies and balmy breezes. Life reappeared with fresh green leaves on the trees and a burgeoning return of insects and birds. It was the kind of time when you could forget that anything was wrong with the world at all if you were that foolish.

For those who could it was a time to enjoy the early heatwave, but for those who couldn't it was a curse. Harry and co dreaded every clear morning knowing that they would not get to enjoy it. Quidditch practice was about all the time they had to bask in the spring sunshine.

Storm had hardly noticed it at all and Albus was worried. She wasn't eating, he had never seen her drink and she wasn't interested in her surroundings at all. She seemed to stare blankly at one spot all her waking hours and when she was asleep he watched concerned as she writhed and screamed at unknown terrors. She was definitely one disturbed wolf. But at least he knew where he had seen her before.

The year after Voldemort's fall the Ministry was still rounding up his supporters and one case in particular came to mind. A fairly young man named Felix Maguire had been identified as one of the lead Death Eaters. Dumbledore had been present at the raid when Maguire had been captured. He'd sat calmly on a leather armchair in front of a fire as the company had burst in. But all six members had been halted in their tracks by a large Thor's rith that stood protectively in the doorway to its masters study.

One wizard was about to kill the creature when Maguire had barely whispered a command and the rith had walked away and sat next to its master. He praised the rith highly as he stood up to face his captors, still as calm as a summer's day, and had said these words;

'Spooky's papers are all in the blue file. Do what you want with me but she is just an animal and does not understand any of this. Make sure someone looks after her.'

Many of the wizards present had been surprised by these words, but also highly suspicious, 'Why should we look after your rith when you have murdered countless families?'

'Because you are good and fair men. You would not punish a creature for what wrongs her master has committed.'

Maguire had been taken away, along with his rith. He had confessed all, being a proud man who would freely admit his wrongs and would not try to wheedle his way out of a just punishment. His only request was that his rith be looked after by someone who would understand her. This had raised much suspicion as to whether he had hidden secrets in the creature and for the first time ever a magical creature had been called as a witness. However, once it was established that the rith could not speak, she was removed from the court. There were some who wanted to make sure that no dark secrets were hidden in the creature's mind, which would have ended up killing her, and others involved in the raid who wanted her destroyed as a dangerous creature. However, it was Dumbledore himself who saved her life this time saying that she was only trying to protect her master and would have hoped she would have done the same for him if she belonged to him. Dumbledore never knew who the rith known as Spooky ended up with, but he did remember the final parting between rith and master.

It had been granted as a reward for Maguire's honest confession and was one of the most heart-wrenching acts Dumbledore had ever witnessed. Spooky had been put in a cell normally reserved for prisoners as the place was not equipped with animal accommodation. Maguire was allowed into the cell while two guards and Dumbledore stood at the door to make sure that he didn't give her anything or tell her anything incriminating. The rith's eyes had brightened at the sight of her master and her tail set wagging, but it soon stopped when she noticed the look on his face. It was the usual thing a man might say when parting from his dog, telling her to be good for her new masters, to behave herself and make sure she didn't forget him. Both man and wolf were crying by the end, they were the only family each other had, but Maguire gave her one last pat before turning to leave. The rith had caught him by the hem of his shirt and turned him around. She then took off her worn collar and tore out a patch of blue-black fur and wrapped it in the leather band. She'd given it to her master before she broke completely. Dumbledore had led Felix away, his shoulders shaking with grief as he held the old collar and the fur, and heard the heart-rending howls of a wolf who had lost all she loved.

Dumbledore felt like he had broken his promise to Maguire to make sure that his Spooky was well looked after, but he hoped to make amends. As far as he knew the rith's master was still alive and serving his life sentence in Azkaban.

A change in the wind drew his attention, and that of the rith formerly known as Spooky and Zafyre, now known as Storm, and he set off down to see Hagrid not seeing the small snout and twitching whiskers peeking out from a tiny hole right where the rith had been staring.

* * * * *

She could feel it before it had even begun. When it was still stirring up to the south she felt it stirring in her blood. As it grew stronger so did she. Her whole body was attuned to its patterns and its power. Ever since her ancestor – Bluescar Thunderbolt – had been struck by lightning her breed had been connected by the most natural magic of all. Even her admired colouration was due to that first legendary striking.

Now the storm was approaching fast – it was a few hours away at most and its namesake could already feel the electricity crackling through her veins. She looked out of the window and waited for the tempest to come to her.

She'd hated stormy days when she was under the thumb of the Malfoys. For thirteen years she hadn't been allowed out to feel the fire and the passion of the storm. Locked away in a windowless cell with no outlet for the frustration it made her feel. Her first master, the one she had truly called Master, had understood and had loved watching her revel in the power of the elements. But at the Malfoys her cell had become a torture chamber, all four stone walls and particularly the solid wooden door had been deeply scarred by blunt claws desperately trying to dig through thick stone in a vain attempt to vent some of the rage she felt. They'd thought her too dangerous at this time to be allowed near the house, and they were right. She was like a loner werewolf on the full moon. By the time the storm had blown itself out the rith had spent all her frenzied energy, usually collapsed on the floor, and was left with nothing but a hollowness in her heart. It had been a way that Lucius had tried to gain total control over her, but it had backfired. If he'd have let her go she'd have respected him far more.

She needed to be outside, to watch the steely clouds roll in on brisk winds as if born on the wings of dragons. It was near now, so near, and she could feel its every movement, its power rising so she shook with mounting anticipation. She wanted to run, to bound, to call out her wild challenge proudly to the sky.

She was a werewolf after all and knew all about the force that was housed in her body, dying to be released.

* * * * *

Care of Magical Creatures for the fifth years was being held out on one of the open meadows. Most of the class looked worriedly up at the rapidly darkening sky that threatened rain.

Ahead of them was not the massive Hagrid, but someone much smaller in stature with short grey hair.

'Madam Hooch, what are you doing here?' Harry asked.

'Hagrid asked me to wait here for you lot while he collects the subject of today's lesson, so if you hang on he'll be here in a minute.' Diana Hooch's golden eyes seemed to catch every sulphurous streak in the clouds.

It was Lavender Brown who piped up first, 'But it's going to rain, we'll get all wet.'

The look in Madam Hooch's eyes was utter contempt, 'It's not going to rain, Miss Brown, it's going to absolutely hammer it down and that's the reason why we're here. There's going to be a fair bit of thunder and lightning too, but it's going to be a good show, so don't get all pathetic on me. Ah, here we go. Umbella!'

A rainproof shield immediately appeared overhead as the first golf ball sized drops of rain began to fall. In the distance came a low rumble of thunder. A strangled bark behind them made them turn around to see Hagrid valiantly trying to hold on to Storm.

When he'd arrived in Dumbledore's office he'd found Storm almost wild with delight and had had to grab her by the scruff of the neck to stop her from charging past him. It was the first time that she'd ever snapped at him from anything other than fear, but luckily he was skilled in such situations. Slipping a both a lead and a halter over her head, he'd managed to gain control relatively easily once she realised he was taking her outside, but once there it was a different matter. That first low roll of thunder had sent a thrill down Storm's spine and she had tried to break free from her bonds, causing them to cut into her face. It was this that had caught everyone's attention.

When watching the spectacle Harry doubted very much if anyone weaker than Hagrid would have been able to hold Storm, thin as she was. For the first time ever Harry could see the werewolf in the rith. Her eyes were wild and dangerous and spittle was dripping from her dangerous jaws as she slavered in anticipation of the oncoming thunderstorm. Every hair on her body stood straight up, creating blue and black spikes especially along her spine with her ear tufts blowing in the wind. She looked a world apart from the docile Storm they all knew, she was a strange feral beast of the tempest. When close enough they could see the blue-white lightning flickering across her savage eyes and no one wanted to get too close. Hagrid held gallantly onto the halters as he addressed the class.

'Afternoon. As most of yeh know, this is Storm...'

'That's my mother's rith.'

'I think not, Malfoy. This is Dumbledore's rith. Ask yer parents why she ain't got scars no more.' Malfoy flushed at the memory of the blood on his hands. 'As I was sayin', this is Storm and now I'll tell yer why she was called that. Does anyone know what type of rith Storm is? Ron?'

'She's a Thor.'

'Aye. The rarest type of rith there is. There's two other main types, anyone? Hermione?'

'The Brimstone and the Common or Can-Rith.'

'Spot on. Now why are Thor's riths called that? No one? Okay I'll tell yer. Thor was a god of thunder and lightnin', these riths have got such an affinity for it that they were said to run alongside Thor's chariot and it was Thor himself who made these riths as companions to himself.'

An odd sound which could have been a muffled howl escaped Storm's muzzled jaws. Hagrid stroked her head but his hand was shaken off as the rith made a break for it. He checked her sharply.

'Madam Hooch, why don't you tell 'em how you can tell a werewolf from a rith as I've got my hands rather full here.' Storm was now bucking and leaping like a wild mustang and it was taking all of Hagrid's strength to hold her.

Diana warmed to the subject immediately, 'First of all you have colour. Storm here is no true werewolf as you can plainly see. True werewolves have the same colour patterns as true wolves and rith breeders have not been able the replicate this after out-breeding it. But the most obvious difference is their feet. Riths stand on two, wolves and werewolves stand on four. This...'

A shaft of lightning tore the sky in half and created such a roar of thunder that it shook the ground. With a gargantuan effort Storm broke both halters and bounded off into the path of the tempest, all the time howling out her fierce song to the boiling skies. She stood stock still once a fair distance away, her legs apart and her sapphire eyes aglow with ferocious light that defied anyone or anything to challenge her. The storm accepted the challenge.

Rith and thunderstorm rivalled each other in loudness and wildness of their calls. Forked lightning ripped the sky around her and all the class stood stock still, unable to tear their eyes away from the savage spectacle. One bolt, closer than the rest, actually came down with full force in the grounds of Hogwarts itself, right in front of them. Everyone shut their eyes at the sheer brightness of it and more than a few screamed.

'It's Storm she's been hit!' Harry called, but Hagrid put a hand on his shoulder.

'It's all righ', Harry. Look!'

If Storm had been beautiful before then she was something else now. The marbled pattern of blue and black now rippled and swirled as if were liquid, shining like quicksilver, and her eyes glowed like blue flames.

'Tha's why yeh have t' have Thor's riths struck by lightnin'. Don't she look beautiful!'

There was no doubt about it, no one could believe the magical change in Storm. They stayed out for a while as the tempest moved away and Storm frolicked in the long grass, thanking her Nordic benefactor with a song more pleasant than the violent challenge of before. The uplifting hymn rose proudly to the sky and there was peace in a broken heart.

Dark clouds parted and brilliant blue skies returned, casting new sunlight on a solitary singer whose rain-sleeked fur shone like pure silver.