The Animagus
Three years later.
A single Mandrake leaf in her mouth for a month, specifically a full moon to the next full moon. Placing the spit-infused leaf into a phial under the moon’s rays, followed by a singular strand of her own, long black hair. A silver teaspoon of dew that has never seen sunlight nor human touch, and finally.. The chrysalis of a death’s-head hawk moth. Once this strange concoction is made, Melantha spent every single damned sunrise, every single blasted sundown, chanting a repetitive, almost sickening, incantation. She grew sick of it, but she continued, every single time, as was required, until the first lightning storm blessed her. And when that storm finally came, Melantha drank the potion she had made.
The first time she transformed, the pain was incredible. Every bone in her body cracked and shifted; they twisted and turned, they grew or shrunk in accordance to her new form, and it hurt. It felt like it seared and burned within every single muscle and joint inside her body, and she screamed until she felt like she couldn’t anymore, until her body was no longer her own.
She couldn’t tell what exactly she was, not at first. She stumbled through the forest, limping as she tried to get used to the feeling of.. Whatever it was that she had turned into. After tripping over her feet once, then twice, she finally stood still and took the time to acquaint herself with her new body. She inhaled the cold air around her, finding that her nose had grown more sensitive, able to smell the nearby animals, the distant fire smoke that emitted from the chimneys of the nearby town.
Then, she started to listen to her surroundings, and she could hear every little snap of a twig, the rustling of the leaves of the trees. She could hear the distant cries of wolves, elk, magical creatures alike. She felt like she could hear and smell everything in the world so much better than she ever could before, and her eyesight! Hell, she could practically see in the dark!
But then, her hair stood on edge, as if something was watching her. She spun around toward the source of this dreadful feeling as a deep growl echoed from her throat, and she watched as the leaves nearby rustled in response - a prey’s response of flight.
She took off after the prey, on instinct. She darted on all fours toward whatever it was that ran away from her, deeper and deeper into the dark forest. It was the middle of the night, and she felt free.
She felt like nothing could stop her, that was free to do anything she wanted. And so, she ran, she sprinted as fast as she could, until she caught up with whatever prey she had been chasing.
Before she even realized what was happening, she had scooped up the little fox she chased after into the maw of her mouth, her teeth ripping right into it in a bloody mess. The jet-black fur of her new body was stained crimson as the heart of her new body cried out in joy, in a feeling of pure ecstasy from her first hunt, her first meal.
When she finished eating, she kept wandering. She didn’t hunt any more, not for the night, but she thought about what she had just done, and it had felt like it wasn’t quite.. Herself? Not her normal self, at least. But at the same time, it felt so good. She walked the forest, slowly making her way back where she had come from, before she found a river, flowing gently through the midst of the dark forest. It was there that she finally got to see a broken reflection of herself, staring back up at her from the flowing water.
A small wolf with jet-black fur stared back at her, with the same icy blue, nearly white, eyes that she had in her “human form”. But her mouth, or rather her snout, was stained with crimson as a result of her earlier hunt.
She was mesmerized by the sight. Was this her? Was this her animagus form? She stared and stared for what felt like far too long, until she sensed a nearby presence. This time it felt different than before, but instead of investigating, she forced herself to leave.
She ran, sprinting away from the river all the way back to town. And as she approached the edge of the forest bordering the town she lived in, she willed herself back into her human form. She turned back into her normal appearance, but she was still stained in crimson blood, much to her own dismay.
Melantha was at least glad that it was still dark out, though it was close enough to morning that some people were beginning to stir in their homes. She weaved her way through alleys and streets, trailing the scent of blood behind her. When the orphanage that she lived in came into sight, she silently hoped that it was empty, that none of the children were yet awake, that she could slip past the caretakers.
And thus, she entered through the backdoor, listening to the building around her as it creaked in response to her opening the door. She could tell almost immediately that her hearing in her human form had improved since her transformation, but it wasn’t nearly as sensitive as it was as a wolf. Melantha crept her way to her bedroom, where she carefully picked up a new change of clothes, and then made her way to the bathroom. She showered and soaked herself, cleaning her face and her hair of blood, even making an effort to scrub her clothes free of any stains it had earned that night.