Harry Potter, Full Crow Moon

Title: Full Crow Moon [A certain furry quadroped]
Rating/Warnings: G
Summary: The moon pulls more than tides.
A/N: My own little creature does this all the time when i leave the window open.

Full Crow Moon

The creature padded silently across the ledge and paused a moment, as if he sensed something moving just beyond the range of his senses. He stood poised, one paw lifted just barely off the ground, caught halfway into a step, so still that he might not have been even breathing.

At last he relaxed enough to lower his paw to the ground and before continuing to the edge of the ledge. He paused again, the night breeze ruffling his fur slightly, before sitting on his haunches, peering out into the darkness of the spring night, tail curling around his feet. Below his ledge was spread out trees and hills as far as the eye could see, all bleached silver and black in the moonlight. The creature could only see black and white, but the moon made things look different anyway, the shadows deeper and the distances blurred.

His ears flicked back and forth several times as he regarded the trees below in somber silence, then tilted his head up to the full moon above him. The light of the moon reflected weirdly in his eyes, making his usually dark pupils glow eerie shades of green and red on either side of his broad head. His dark fur would have rendered him completely invisible from below if not for his eyes.

The breeze grew stronger, and he leaned back on his hind legs, lifting his snout to scent the air. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes as the smells washed over him, his keen nose picking out evergreens and grass, lake water and fish, and innumerable forest-dwellers, things that scurried or flew or ran through the trees.

Everything except the scents he wanted. He stretched out yet farther, a forepaw leaving the ground as he searched the air in vain, snout wrinkling with effort. No smell was comforting, none brought back memories of snufflings by wet noses, or pokes from antlers, or any number of nights under full moons just like this, the air smelling of pack instead of this awful, anonymous forest that teemed with life, but held nothing familiar.

Finally, he lowered his paw and his head sank back down. Eyes opened and scanned the forest a last time, pointlessly. If he couldn’t scent pack there was no point in trying to see them from here, but he scanned the horizon anyway because that was how the ritual went, because there was still a chance that they might appear at the edge of the trees and wave him down to join them.

The creature had simple emotions which usually only occurred one at a time, and at that moment loneliness welled up in him, the desire to scent and touch and run with pack filled his chest, rising in his throat until he had no choice but to throw back his head and let it pour out of his throat in a wild, mournful, aching song.

“What on earth is Scabbers squeaking about over there?” Oliver demanded. “I’m trying to study!”

Percy looked up from his own desk and reached over to tap his rat on the snout. Startled, Scabbers dropped to hunch, blinking at Percy for a moment before sneezing and reaching up to scratch his side with a back paw.

“Who knows,” Percy shrugged, rubbing Scabbers behind the ears for a moment before returning to his homework.

“Shouldn’t let him run loose all over your desk like that,” Oliver grumbled, returning to his own work. “He’s going to fall right out that window sooner or later.”

The creature scratched his side on last time before turning back to the full moon and the forest below. Whiskers bristled as he drew another deep breath in, he lay down on the edge of the windowsill, head pillowed on his paws and nose poking out into the night, the tip of his tail twitching every time a breeze blew over him, rippling dark fur.

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