There are plenty of things a Potter shouldn't do.

Including this.

I feel my eyes widen as the face shines. My breathing quickens and my heart begins to race. I arch my back slightly, biting my lip to stop the howl of pain erupting from my throat. I scream openly as I feel my bones crack, twist and morph. My DNA explodes and reforms in a fraction of a second, leaving me broken on the ground. I allow another half hearted whimper to escape my lips as I fall to the floor, finally defeated.

Suddenly I spring up. Full of life, of energy. My eyes catch every tiny detail, every trace of movement. My ears prick at the smallest sound, alert, awake. My willing lips lick themselves in anticipation as my sharp nose catches blood in the air. My hands and feet, alive with nerves, enlighten me further still. I am a sensory machine. And it's a beautiful feeling.

I stretch up, and my yellowy irises lock onto a beautiful hanging orb, perfect and serene against the cold, black night sky. I let my lips part in wonder and a chilling howl rips through the night. I realise its coming from me. Whoops. I experiment with the call again. I like it. I roar slightly as the back of my throat begins to burn and my eyes widen in surprise, even fear maybe. But not terror. I am a wolf. We know not the meaning of the word terror.

I am a wolf.

I am a wolf.

I am a wolf...