Amato Animo Animato Animagus [Solo] - Elsewhere…

4 Apr 2024, 11:09

(TW: light depictions of anxiety, pain, and body horror)
Our Ravenclaw emblem is the eagle, which soars where others cannot climb.
The eagle is directly associated with air through its ability to fly exceptionally high,
performing the role of intermediary between the region of earth and the realm of aether.
As an air sign, Gemini are experts in the ephemeral, things of this world that lack physical form, especially language and information. Air signs are unlimited by space and can drift everywhere.
🜁
September 2023

┏
┓
Over two years of preparation had led to this moment. Longer, even, when Pericles thought back to his early childhood. He remembered watching his grandmother take the form of a black panther to tackle the physical feats her human body wasn't up to, for although the old cat's muzzle was peppered with silver, she was still a lithe and powerful thing. He held memories, foggy yet dear, of clinging to the scruff of her neck with tiny hands. She inspired him, but so had her stories of the original Animagi. There was Falco Aesalon, the first of their kind and born in Greee just like him, who took the form of a falcon. Then came the fearsome Morgan le Fey, mother of crows, and Cliodna, the medieval druidess who could become a sea bird. Drifting off to sleep as a boy, he concocted fabulous adventures the early animagi would go on. His dreams were of soaring through the skies on great wings.

"Teach me how to become an animagus," he'd asked in the summer of his second year, pleading with those insatiably curious eyes. "I want to know what it's like to be one. Everything and anything you can think of." His grandmother had given him one of those lidded looks, speaking dry snark about how she had spent years as an animagus, and it would take years more to divulge her entire experience. She challenged him to narrow down his questions, supportive but not one to have her time misspent. The studious Ravenclaw set about the task without further prompting. Mamo Tama was patient as ever, humoring his strange specificities as factually as she could, knowing well what she was in for when her grandson headed her way with an increasingly disorganized notebook in hand. When she tired of his questions, she would politely suggest they meditate on the matter. Quietly. Yet he learned, and he grew. Pericles took this passion back to Hogwarts, founding the League of Aspirant Animagi in a time of impassioned inspiration. He studied outside of Tama's tutelage, reading and reaching out where he could, the notebook growing alongside him. Those years flickered by faster than they should have.

When he came of age, Pericles knew that after a lifetime of dreaming, he couldn't afford to botch the execution. Every step throughout deserved his absolute dedication. He harvested the mandrake leaf from his mother's garden, by her side, watching with bright eyes as she breathed a blessing over it. Mamo was the one to gift him a silver spoon for collecting untouched dew, revealing the utensil wrapped in silk as she spoke of it being a gift for his annaprashana. It had been her gift at his first food ceremony, now his again for the boy's next rite of passage. Though his sister was abroad, Abigail took time to gather and mail the chrysalis of a death's-head hawkmoth, something she'd scrounged from a field in Africa. Peri returned to school with these cherished totems. When the time game, he placed the mandrake leaf beneath his tongue. He had practiced this part long before braving the actual thing, suffering through plant breath for multiple months now, but it was worth it: he'd learned how to talk, eat, and drink without losing it. Come a month later, he gathered morning dew from an ivy, then- under a full moon near fourth year graduation- spat the leaf into a phial. A pale hair was plucked from his head, wound about the chrysalis before it was wedged in, and the silver spoon ladled in the untouched dew. He held the concoction to the night sky, turning it with a sense of wonder, blinking in that slow sleepy way as moonlight filtered through its components. It was as ready as it could be. The potion would lie buried in a dark safe place to stew, and in the meantime, he whispered to himself every dawn and dusk with his wand to his heart: Amato Amino Animato Animagus. It was a tongue twister, though the daily repetition would help him get it right. He had to. It needed to be perfect, once he said it for the final time. Pericles was confident in the process to this point, as from time to time during the incantation, he swore he felt a second heart thrumming within his chest.

The night of a great storm arrived. Sleep had overcome Pericles as he read, releasing him come a clap of thunder so loud that it shook the windowpanes of Ravenclaw dormitory. He sat up with a start, the book in his hands tumbling to the floor, and only spared a second to toss it back on his bed before throwing on a robe and running from the room. The boy beelined to the staff meant to attend, rapping knuckles to their door until it opened. He merely panted: "It's time. I need your help." He felt it important that the change take place somewhere secluded, so it was off to the boathouse, with a short detour to the place he'd buried the potion in. When he dug it up, its morbid contents had turned the color of blood. It was ready, but was he...? The young wizard was plagued with an uncertainty that festered and grew as this day drew nearer. Becoming an unsavory animal was a worry, yet certainly among the least of them. He could handle becoming a bug, or a little fish, even some manner of pest animal. He couldn't bear failing the ritual and being stuck in the form of a nauseating half-human half-animal abomination. Campaigner that he was, Pericles had been unable to resist contemplating all possible outcomes, and that was undoubtedly the worst. Imagine dropping out of school a measly two years before graduation because of a botched transfiguration, let alone spending the rest of his days hiding from human eyes. His hands trembled in anticipation while a thumb uncorked the vial. In his mind, he replayed a line from the book detailing this very process:
You must show no fear. It is too late, now, to escape the change you have willed.
Right. Bottoms up, then. The teen's voice broke as he mumbled an uneasy "Cheers."

Pericles raised his aspen wand, settling its tip over his heart. His breathing quickened, forehead furrowed, eyes steely as he forcibly transmuted fear into determination. He had recited the line exhaustibly. This time, he needed to make it count. "Amato Animo Animato Animagus!" The Ravenclaw squeezed his eyes shut and knocked back the potion. He had read that the first transformation was supposed to be uncomfortable, but even he couldn't have imagined these all new sensations. It started with a scalding pain in his belly, as though he'd swallowed boiling water, leaving his eyes and mouth to water with the agony of it. That second heartbeat in his chest had been a gentle thing before, but now it pounded like a frightened bird trying to burst free from his ribcage. The tall lad was reduced to all fours. He kept his mouth clamped shut, stifling a pained grunt, resisting the urge to hurl his hard work all over the floorboards. Blinking fast, Peri numbly reached to remove his glasses, only to find them fused to his face. Shaking fingertips traced the indiscernible divide between skin and metal. Terror was an opportunistic predator. It crept up on him in the moment of dumbfounded shock, weakening his resolve, triggering the urge to abandon all efforts. A mind which regularly relied on reason for comfort could now only replay the same snippet of that cryptic warning: too late, too late, too late.

Something emerged from the storm of dread that clouded his mind. The vision began as a mere silhouette at first, but it was one he knew, one that had lived with him since his earliest dreams: the shadow of great wings. Pericles experienced that singular, ecstatic instance in which doubt gave way to enlightenment. This was the hour he had yearned for for years. He had always struggled with the concept of legacy, skeptical towards the idea of destiny, but this feat was his alone. The young warlock had studied, speculated, and ceaselessly toiled towards this moment. As the image of an eagle revealed itself to him, his confidence resurged with a vengeance. Why turn back now? Why give up? The thing he craved so intensely was almost in his grasp: freedom. That was what the eagle really represented. An animagus form was said to embody who a wix was at their core, connected to their primal nature, and Pericles yearned for freedom. Throughout his childhood, those wings had carried him far from everyday troubles, bearing him into the depths of his own imagination. Now they would be a means by which to carve his own path. He steeled his resolve, snarling through gritted teeth as he relented to the transformation.

In anticipation for this moment, Peri had packed some things he assumed a newly formed animagus might need. A blanket, a bowl of water (either post-transformation thirst or, in the event that one turned into a fish), a mirror. The latter proved to be an egregious mistake. Propped up against a nearby wall, its reflective surface revealed a morbid vision of himself he wouldn't soon forget: skin somehow paler than ever, hard gray lips, blackened eyes. He looked like an actual corpse. His gaze immediately averted, settling on his hands. Quills had begun to sprout from his skin, grotesque hollow shafts that rose in rapid succession. He realized it was likely best if his eyes stayed closed. Pericles squeezed them shut, focusing on his breathing instead of the foreign feelings overtaking him. Remembering many a meditation session with his grandmother, he honed in on the burning sensation in his stomach, rhythmically inhaling and exhaling until detached from the pain. Those double heartbeats thrummed like primal drums, heralding the transcendent union of animal and man. As they gradually aligned to the same beat, both body and mind changed, and when the pulse finally faded, the budding warlock had assumed the shape of a white-bellied sea-eagle.

Like any bird in shock, he could simply sit and stare with a gawking beak for the remainder of his first transformation. His senses, his thoughts, everything had changed yet his mind was still his own. In coming days, he would acclimate to the shift itself. In coming weeks, he learned to fly, discovering the functions of his new form through trial and error. Most significant would be the change to develop over the next half year. The white eagle became a reoccurring sight around Hogwarts as the young animagus indulged in his ability, flying from one class to the next, peoplewatching from a safe distance. The more he saw his school with a new set of eyes, the more readily he reintegrated after a long-term hermitage. Peri found himself an aspiring apprentice. He gathered his animagus League for an enlightening trip into the wilderness. He even had the opportunity to observe someone else's transformation. The eagle had afforded him many much-needed freedoms, to be sure. Connecting to an abstract aspect of himself had also taught him to witness the world through a new set of eyes, shedding light on things that had gone unnoticed, or even unappreciated. A past dream was realized, and his future was forever changed.

┗ ┛

{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }

(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)

Back

┏		┓
	Over two years of preparation had led to this moment. Longer, even, when Pericles thought back to his early childhood. He remembered watching his grandmother take the form of a black panther to tackle the physical feats her human body wasn't up to, for although the old cat's muzzle was peppered with silver, she was still a lithe and powerful thing. He held memories, foggy yet dear, of clinging to the scruff of her neck with tiny hands. She inspired him, but so had her stories of the original Animagi. There was Falco Aesalon, the first of their kind and born in Greee just like him, who took the form of a falcon. Then came the fearsome Morgan le Fey, mother of crows, and Cliodna, the medieval druidess who could become a sea bird. Drifting off to sleep as a boy, he concocted fabulous adventures the early animagi would go on. His dreams were of soaring through the skies on great wings. "Teach me how to become an animagus," he'd asked in the summer of his second year, pleading with those insatiably curious eyes. "I want to know what it's like to be one. Everything and anything you can think of." His grandmother had given him one of those lidded looks, speaking dry snark about how she had spent years as an animagus, and it would take years more to divulge her entire experience. She challenged him to narrow down his questions, supportive but not one to have her time misspent. The studious Ravenclaw set about the task without further prompting. Mamo Tama was patient as ever, humoring his strange specificities as factually as she could, knowing well what she was in for when her grandson headed her way with an increasingly disorganized notebook in hand. When she tired of his questions, she would politely suggest they meditate on the matter. Quietly. Yet he learned, and he grew. Pericles took this passion back to Hogwarts, founding the League of Aspirant Animagi in a time of impassioned inspiration. He studied outside of Tama's tutelage, reading and reaching out where he could, the notebook growing alongside him. Those years flickered by faster than they should have. When he came of age, Pericles knew that after a lifetime of dreaming, he couldn't afford to botch the execution. Every step throughout deserved his absolute dedication. He harvested the mandrake leaf from his mother's garden, by her side, watching with bright eyes as she breathed a blessing over it. Mamo was the one to gift him a silver spoon for collecting untouched dew, revealing the utensil wrapped in silk as she spoke of it being a gift for his annaprashana. It had been her gift at his first food ceremony, now his again for the boy's next rite of passage. Though his sister was abroad, Abigail took time to gather and mail the chrysalis of a death's-head hawkmoth, something she'd scrounged from a field in Africa. Peri returned to school with these cherished totems. When the time game, he placed the mandrake leaf beneath his tongue. He had practiced this part long before braving the actual thing, suffering through plant breath for multiple months now, but it was worth it: he'd learned how to talk, eat, and drink without losing it. Come a month later, he gathered morning dew from an ivy, then- under a full moon near fourth year graduation- spat the leaf into a phial. A pale hair was plucked from his head, wound about the chrysalis before it was wedged in, and the silver spoon ladled in the untouched dew. He held the concoction to the night sky, turning it with a sense of wonder, blinking in that slow sleepy way as moonlight filtered through its components. It was as ready as it could be. The potion would lie buried in a dark safe place to stew, and in the meantime, he whispered to himself every dawn and dusk with his wand to his heart: Amato Amino Animato Animagus. It was a tongue twister, though the daily repetition would help him get it right. He had to. It needed to be perfect, once he said it for the final time. Pericles was confident in the process to this point, as from time to time during the incantation, he swore he felt a second heart thrumming within his chest. The night of a great storm arrived. Sleep had overcome Pericles as he read, releasing him come a clap of thunder so loud that it shook the windowpanes of Ravenclaw dormitory. He sat up with a start, the book in his hands tumbling to the floor, and only spared a second to toss it back on his bed before throwing on a robe and running from the room. The boy beelined to the staff meant to attend, rapping knuckles to their door until it opened. He merely panted: "It's time. I need your help." He felt it important that the change take place somewhere secluded, so it was off to the boathouse, with a short detour to the place he'd buried the potion in. When he dug it up, its morbid contents had turned the color of blood. It was ready, but was he...? The young wizard was plagued with an uncertainty that festered and grew as this day drew nearer. Becoming an unsavory animal was a worry, yet certainly among the least of them. He could handle becoming a bug, or a little fish, even some manner of pest animal. He couldn't bear failing the ritual and being stuck in the form of a nauseating half-human half-animal abomination. Campaigner that he was, Pericles had been unable to resist contemplating all possible outcomes, and that was undoubtedly the worst. Imagine dropping out of school a measly two years before graduation because of a botched transfiguration, let alone spending the rest of his days hiding from human eyes. His hands trembled in anticipation while a thumb uncorked the vial. In his mind, he replayed a line from the book detailing this very process: You must show no fear. It is too late, now, to escape the change you have willed. Right. Bottoms up, then. The teen's voice broke as he mumbled an uneasy "Cheers." Pericles raised his aspen wand, settling its tip over his heart. His breathing quickened, forehead furrowed, eyes steely as he forcibly transmuted fear into determination. He had recited the line exhaustibly. This time, he needed to make it count. *"Amato Animo Animato Animagus!"* The Ravenclaw squeezed his eyes shut and knocked back the potion. He had read that the first transformation was supposed to be uncomfortable, but even he couldn't have imagined these all new sensations. It started with a scalding pain in his belly, as though he'd swallowed boiling water, leaving his eyes and mouth to water with the agony of it. That second heartbeat in his chest had been a gentle thing before, but now it pounded like a frightened bird trying to burst free from his ribcage. The tall lad was reduced to all fours. He kept his mouth clamped shut, stifling a pained grunt, resisting the urge to hurl his hard work all over the floorboards. Blinking fast, Peri numbly reached to remove his glasses, only to find them fused to his face. Shaking fingertips traced the indiscernible divide between skin and metal. Terror was an opportunistic predator. It crept up on him in the moment of dumbfounded shock, weakening his resolve, triggering the urge to abandon all efforts. A mind which regularly relied on reason for comfort could now only replay the same snippet of that cryptic warning: too late, too late, too late. Something emerged from the storm of dread that clouded his mind. The vision began as a mere silhouette at first, but it was one he knew, one that had lived with him since his earliest dreams: the shadow of great wings. Pericles experienced that singular, ecstatic instance in which doubt gave way to enlightenment. This was the hour he had yearned for for years. He had always struggled with the concept of legacy, skeptical towards the idea of destiny, but this feat was his alone. The young warlock had studied, speculated, and ceaselessly toiled towards this moment. As the image of an eagle revealed itself to him, his confidence resurged with a vengeance. Why turn back now? Why give up? The thing he craved so intensely was almost in his grasp: freedom. That was what the eagle really represented. An animagus form was said to embody who a wix was at their core, connected to their primal nature, and Pericles yearned for freedom. Throughout his childhood, those wings had carried him far from everyday troubles, bearing him into the depths of his own imagination. Now they would be a means by which to carve his own path. He steeled his resolve, snarling through gritted teeth as he relented to the transformation. In anticipation for this moment, Peri had packed some things he assumed a newly formed animagus might need. A blanket, a bowl of water (either post-transformation thirst or, in the event that one turned into a fish), a mirror. The latter proved to be an egregious mistake. Propped up against a nearby wall, its reflective surface revealed a morbid vision of himself he wouldn't soon forget: skin somehow paler than ever, hard gray lips, blackened eyes. He looked like an actual corpse. His gaze immediately averted, settling on his hands. Quills had begun to sprout from his skin, grotesque hollow shafts that rose in rapid succession. He realized it was likely best if his eyes stayed closed. Pericles squeezed them shut, focusing on his breathing instead of the foreign feelings overtaking him. Remembering many a meditation session with his grandmother, he honed in on the burning sensation in his stomach, rhythmically inhaling and exhaling until detached from the pain. Those double heartbeats thrummed like primal drums, heralding the transcendent union of animal and man. As they gradually aligned to the same beat, both body and mind changed, and when the pulse finally faded, the budding warlock had assumed the shape of a white-bellied sea-eagle. Like any bird in shock, he could simply sit and stare with a gawking beak for the remainder of his first transformation. His senses, his thoughts, everything had changed yet his mind was still his own. In coming days, he would acclimate to the shift itself. In coming weeks, he learned to fly, discovering the functions of his new form through trial and error. Most significant would be the change to develop over the next half year. The white eagle became a reoccurring sight around Hogwarts as the young animagus indulged in his ability, flying from one class to the next, peoplewatching from a safe distance. The more he saw his school with a new set of eyes, the more readily he reintegrated after a long-term hermitage. Peri found himself an aspiring apprentice. He gathered his animagus League for an enlightening trip into the wilderness. He even had the opportunity to observe someone else's transformation. The eagle had afforded him many much-needed freedoms, to be sure. Connecting to an abstract aspect of himself had also taught him to witness the world through a new set of eyes, shedding light on things that had gone unnoticed, or even unappreciated. A past dream was realized, and his future was forever changed.
┗		┛

Amato Animo Animato Animagus Solo