Effervescence | h.p.

i | xxvii. seeing through new eyes

Even those who can keep their own mind as their body transforms into a werewolf can become dangerous to those who are close. Keeping your mind may keep you from hurting people and things that a normal werewolf would attack, but it doesn't keep your wolf side from revealing itself every so often. 

Lyra could be considered lucky in the werewolf community; she can keep track of her mind and has control over her actions as a werewolf, making her more of a 'once-a-month wolf' as her papa put it.

She wouldn't attack people or other animals when she was a wolf, but that didn't stop her wolf from deciding every once in a while that it wanted to scratch, attack, and aim to kill.

These transformations were the worst for Lyra as she was helpless — an outsider in her own body; she hated watching whatever her wolf had decided to do with her stolen body for the night without the ability to stop it. 

Lyra had learned over time that her wolf usually decides to take over when she's feeling strongly about something or something important had happened that makes Lyra weaker, giving her wolf an opportunity to overpower the weakened little girl it would overtake.

She believed that this month's loss of control on her part was caused by this unknown sickness that took over her immune system. She figured it was a mixture of homesickness, being separated from her pack for such an extended period of time, and just the overall overexertion she was putting her body through; she wasn't normally flying brooms and studying so much around the full moon.

She was in an opening in the forest behind Lupin Cottage — her home. Both of her dads were there with her, one still a human and the other one a big, black dog. Her Godfather was there, too, as a large stag.

She was on the ground, laying on a blanket that her currently-human father had brought out for her, knowing she would not likely be able to stand from the pain that was shooting throughout her body. She wore one of his cardigans that she would always wear when she felt bad about anything — herself, how she acted towards someone, when she felt sick. It reached just below her knees and underneath it, she wore shorts.

In the past when a Wizard would transform into a werewolf, they would end up ripping their clothes off so when they woke, they wore nothing. But one Wizard, who advocated for the rights of werewolves, had decided to create a spell to counteract this. With this spell, which would be cast on the werewolf before they turned, the Wizard's clothes would repair themselves and return to their normal placement from before the transformation — it was like a time reversal spell for clothing.

Having had the spells cast on Remus and Lyra by Lily before they had left the cottage, all they had to do now was wait for the moon to take them over. Lyra cracked her closed eyes open just enough to see her dad looking at her sadly before she gave him a small smile. He smiled in return before his face dropped as he began shaking; the moon was coming out from its hiding spot behind the clouds.

Knowing that her shift was fast approaching now, she shut her eyes tightly. She curled herself into a ball, as if trying to hide from her inevitable, frightening fate.

Prongs and Pads sat on the edge of the treeline surrounding the small circle-shaped clearing. It physically pained them to hear the cracking of the bones from two of the most important people in their lives. They both knew better than to follow their instincts and run forward offering comfort to the two werewolves before their transformation was complete. They just had to sit, watch, and wait until both wolves were completely turned.

As Remus yelled out in pain, Lyra clenched her fist against her ears. She already didn't wish to hear the pain in his screams as he turned but still having a concussion made his screaming so much more unbearable.