The silver light of the full moon bathed the Ombrelune's garden in quiet luminescence. The Dorm Hall behind Eira stood tall and silent, windows glowing faintly with candlelight as most students slept soundly within its enchanted walls.
But Eira was not asleep.
Wrapped in a midnight-blue cloak, her wand tucked into her belt, she moved swiftly and silently to a secluded grove near the garden's edge. It was a hidden spot she'd discovered weeks ago—a hollow beneath an old tree whose gnarled limbs reached up like arms toward the stars. The moon hovered directly above its canopy. It was perfect.
She carried a worn leather satchel with her, packed tightly with the carefully wrapped ingredients Lolly had sent earlier that day. The package had arrived discreetly, charmed so that no one but Eira could open it. Inside had been everything she'd requested, precisely measured and labeled in Lolly's elegant, slanted handwriting.
Eira knelt in the grass and began her preparations.
From her satchel, she pulled out:
• A silver cauldron with protective runes etched around its base.
• A phial of purified spring water from the Pyrenees.
• A sliver of crystalized moonstone dust, glowing faintly in its vial.
• One chrysanthemum petal, freshly pressed.
• A single hairsbreadth strand of her own hair, enchanted to preserve vitality.
• A feather from a dove, symbolizing balance.
• A vial containing three drops of her own blood, taken just days prior.
• A small pouch of powdered mandrake root, distinct from the leaf under her tongue.
• A pinch of ashes from a phoenix feather, obtained through Loli's curious connections.
• A sprig of wolfsbane, to bind transformation energy under lunar influence.
She set the silver cauldron at the center of a ritual circle—drawn earlier in chalk and salt, carefully concealed from wandering eyes. She poured the spring water in first and lit a small, blue fire beneath the cauldron with a whispered "Incendio moderatum."
As the water began to bubble gently, she took a deep breath and opened the moonstone vial. The dust shimmered as she tipped it in, and the water flashed briefly silver before calming.
Next, she added the chrysanthemum petal, which dissolved instantly, followed by her strand of hair, which swirled in lazy spirals before vanishing. Each step was performed slowly, mindfully.
She unscrewed the tiny vial of blood and, with a steady hand, let three ruby drops fall into the potion. As they hit the surface, the brew darkened—first gray, then deep violet.
The dove feather came next, curling as it was absorbed into the mixture, and then the powdered mandrake root, which caused the potion to hiss sharply before settling into a slow, rhythmic simmer.
Eira glanced up at the moon. It had reached its apex.
Perfect.
She took the phoenix ash and wolfsbane together, mixing them gently in her palm before sprinkling them clockwise into the brew.
The potion roared to life, turning an iridescent shade of deep blue.
Eira drew her wand and tapped the side of the cauldron three times. The brew responded with a pulse of soft light.
Then, she stood and stepped just outside the circle. The next part was crucial—the vocal invocation that would seal the intent of the potion to her body and spirit.
She raised her wand, placed a hand over her heart, and spoke the words that had been etched into the back of the Animagus book:
"Corpus meum, anima mea, unum fiant sub luna.
Forma latet, voluntas paret,
Mutatio per me fiat.
Fiat, sub luna plena."
Her voice was calm, but her heart pounded with intensity. The air around her shimmered faintly. The potion responded—thickening slightly and taking on a slight golden shimmer. That meant the binding had worked.
She dropped to her knees and carefully decanted the thick, shimmering liquid into a glass phial and also added her Mandrake leaf under her tongue , sealing it with a wax rune of her own design.
But she wasn't done yet.
With both hands, she began to dig—a small hole beneath the roots of the old tree, right where the moonlight poured like silver rain between the branches. The earth was soft and smelled of moss and life. Once it was deep enough, she gently placed the phial into the earth.
Before covering it, she said the second part of the ritual:
"Sub arboris umbra, sub luna luce,
Hic manet voluntas mea.
Septem noctes dormiat,
Et revelet veram naturam meam."
Then, she buried the potion.
The dirt closed over it like a promise.
She sat back on her heels and stared up at the sky, the moon brilliant above her. Her breath fogged in the air. The hard and time consuming part was done.
For the next seven nights, the potion would remain buried. On the eighth, under the next full moon, she would retrieve it, drink it, and—if she had done everything right—discover the creature her soul had chosen.
But if anything had gone wrong…
She swallowed. No. She had to trust herself. She had followed every step, every detail.
Eira stood slowly, brushing the dirt from her hands and robes. Her heart was steady now. The worst fear had passed, and what remained was determination.
As she looked once more at the tree, she whispered to herself, "I will do this. No matter how long it takes besides I am sure I won't fail since I have the reward ."
And then, under the watchful eye of the moon, she returned to the Ombrelune's Dorm Hall to sleep.