MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

Type

Slinking her way across the grounds, Atlas wandered over to the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. It was Mid-December, snow lay thick against the previously muddy ground and the sky - once a gloomy grey - lightened to an opaline colour, easing the moods of everyone in the castle and further stretching to the inhabitants of Hogsmeade. The buzz of Christmas had been stagnant in the air for some time, as well as the afterglow of Ravenclaw's soul-crushing victory over Hufflepuff in the match at the end of November.

The result led to not only Ravenclaw's triumph but to Gryffindor's as well, because now they had another shot at the Quidditch cup. This being something Oliver Wood had been reminding the team of over and over, each time practice rolled around. Atlas had been working on her left arm, determined not to use her right after a thorough scolding from not only her godmother but Hermione too.

Even Neville Longbottom, a boy she was steadily getting closer to after helping him out in Potions on many occasions and him helping her out in Herbology when Hermione was busy with Ron and Harry, had - gently - warned her to not strain herself too hard.

So with everything, the relentless training, the dotting Hermione, the ever remaining question of her father hanging in the air, the Hogsmeade trip coming up, Dumbledore's fury keeping the Dementors at bay and Cedric that morning asking too many Hermione based questions for it to be innocent curiosity, Atlas needed a break.

It was understandable, of course, before this, before she had entered Hogwarts the most mentally taxing thing she'd ever participated in was saving Bella and Cedric from Old-man Dockten, the crazy old crone that lived at the edge of Hogsmeade, who was firing hexes off left and right at the pair. Atlas never found out why but in honesty, she didn't really want to know.

Having so much going on socially though wasn't hard to deal with per se, it was actually something Atlas found easy to deal with at that point, she didn't mind the attention. A majority of the fearfulness had gone, most people just looked at her and saw the amazing Chaser of Gryffindor those days, or the exceptionally good student who no one - not even Snape - could discredit.

Coming to a stop, Atlas looked around, taking in a breath and loosening up her joints. Shifting wasn't painful, it was quite effortless actually, like sinking to the bottom of a lake, one would sort of just fall but it was always nice to loosen everything up, especially when shifting into something as big as Atlas did. Satisfied with her warm-up, Atlas jogged into the forest and jumped, her large hands shifting into giant paws with razor-sharp claws at their ends, feet, elongating to form the hind legs of the monster she turned into.

Everything grew, from her nose which turned into a fury black snout, to her ears which twitched when they fully formed, fluffy midnight coloured tufts of fur coming off of them, metal spikes, like scales, running down her spine. A resounding thud came with when she landed again, disturbing the local birds nesting in the treetops. The Dire-wolf stood to its full height, tail ever-so-slightly dusting against the snow ridden forest floor.

Then, without a warning and with speed surprising for its size, she took off, jumping, clawing, climbing, sprinting and panting, mind clouded and gaze sharp. A huff escaped the maws of the oversized wolf as she pounced over a fallen tree and, though she had initially resolved of going in deeper, she stopped, eyes focused on the black shaggy dog staring right back at her. It was the dog from the stands, she was sure it was, at first glance, it indeed looked like Lyra because of the similarities in their coats but this animal in front of her was most certainly a dog and not a wolf.

Pity rose in Atlas's gut at the dog's condition, it was skinny, she could see its ribcage pressed prominently against its skin, its fur was dull too, a contrast to her own shiny-healthy looking one. Winter had no doubt sent most animals into hiding so she supposed the poor thing had run out of food.