[ WP ] Werewolves are badass . Druids can transform into gigantic bears . Some shapeshift into feline beasts . And then there 's you ... a wereotter . You attend a support group for cuddly were-beasts .

Werewolves were one thing, but she'd never thought to expect... *this*. 
 
 She had first begun learning about werewolves - and, more specifically, animal transformations - when she was thirteen years old. Many would argue that it was'quite improper' for a young lady of her age to be studying such foul, loathsome creatures. Others tried to discredit her reputation, claiming that werewolves were `` dangerous beasts, the darkest of the lot, and not to be trifled with''. 
 
 Then she remembered thinking that those tossers could `` go stuff themselves'', for all she cared. She'd always been a clever girl, always earning top marks across her classes, and keeping her chin up when some of her less desirable male classmates sneered at her. Her mind whirred a mile a minute, always thinking of the possibilities, and, without fail, she would devour as many tomes as she could get her hands on. 
 
 Those included books on werewolves, and, in particular, learning how to transform one's physical form into the shape of an animal. 
 
 When she had just started learning about such magic, she had an unfortunate mishap with her first'experiment'. While she had largely retained her human form, she had sprouted a coat of black fur, whiskers, pointed ears, and even a *tail*. However, the transformation had been only halfway - utterly incomplete - but, thanks to a stay in the hospital, she was right as rain in time. It had taken a few weeks of being forced to drink disgusting concoctions, along with the nurses giving her little to no privacy, but she was quite fortunate to make it out unscathed. 
 
 When they had discharged her, they warned her not to attempt such `` foolhardiness'' again. 
 
 After all, werewolves were seen as subhuman beings. They were largely confined to the dregs of society - the poorest of the poor - and many were homeless. Others lived in haphazard `` shantytowns'' in various woods across the nation, seeking to distance themselves from the hateful gaze of the uninfected. Similar could be said of their skinwalker'cousins' - those that could transform into animals at will, and back - but these were-variants were far more accepted. Unlike lycanthropes, they could control the change at will. 
 
 However, skinwalkers were far more rare than werewolves. Due to the stigma against were-variants in general, only a handful attempted to learn how to transform, and fewer still succeeded. 
 
 Early on, she had determined to become one of those who did. 
 
 War was coming. Though she was a relative newcomer to this world - regarded as an unwelcome outsider by some - she had known this as soon as she had combed through her first history book. For decades - no *centuries* - tensions had been escalating between those seen more as `` beasts'', including the were-variants, and those seen as `` beings'', worthy of basic rights and dignity. With the ever-encroaching presence of humans into werewolf territory, attacks on the uninfected were escalating. 
 
 She's always had a soft spot for those who were persecuted - those who suffered from injustice. Seeing a population experience such hatred and prejudice only strengthened her resolve, to become that which, hopefully, she hoped could bridge the gap to help put an end to the were-variants' subhuman status. 
 
 Hope can be a powerful motivator, and coupled with her will of steel - her sheer ambition to achieve which most claimed to be impossible - she trained. For years, she studied in secrecy and silence, preparing her body to once again attempt'the change'. She informed only her two closest friends, two boys whom she had developed ties to, and both were open and accepting of her aims. 
 
 `` Just think of how useful it would be, being able to turn into an animal and back at will,'' she'd said. `` It could help enormously.'' 
 
 The only problem is, she had no inkling as to what kind of animal she would turn *into*. 
 
 Unfortunately, even with transformation magic, the final form from'the change' could not be determined with one-hundred-percent accuracy. Whatever animal one turned into was said to reflect his or her personality - or, as some put, `` the soul'' - and others said it was transforming into the manifestation of one's'spirit guide'. 
 
 Even before her rigorous self-study and training, she wondered what she'd might be. An owl? She'd always wanted one as a pet and companion since she'd been ushered into her new life. A cat? Now that she had one of her own, and absolutely loved him to bits, she wondered if that would, indeed, be her animal form. 
 
 Or, perhaps, she what if she turned into something small, like a mosquito? She wrinkled her nose; she'd had bad experiences with bugs, and never much cared for them. Or, what if she turned into something large, like a whale, or a giant panda? Neither would be very useful or practical to the goal that she hoped to achieve. 
 
 However, what she *got* was the last thing she'd expected. 
 
 At long last, the day came when she'd decided to attempt a full transformation. She'd gathered with her two best friends in the same room, which was empty, save for the large mirror opposite to her. 
 
 Her heart hammering in her chest, she took a good, long look at herself: entirely unimpressive, with normal teeth, average height, a mane of curly, brown hair, a heart-shaped face, and pale skin. She'd never been considered a beauty as a human - at least, by conventional standards - but nor did she feel bothered by her plain appearance. She knew that she could not afford to be distracted by any errant, irrevalent feelings. 
 
 `` Who knows,'' her blue-eyed, taller friend joked. `` Maybe you'll turn into something wicked, like a lion. Or, maybe you'll turn out like the Druids ages ago, and become a bear.'' 
 
 `` Are you sure you want to do this?'' her other friend queried. `` You know what the consequences could be.'' 
 
 She paused, her brown eyes fixating on his green ones with a steely gaze. 
 
 `` I'm sure,'' she replied. `` I'm ready.'' 
 
 With a deep, loud sigh, she closed her eyes. Her hands were clenched into fists of concentration, her knuckles white. 
 
 *'' Anima revelio,'' * she intoned. She flicked her arm over herself, feeling the hum of the magic respond. *'' Reformus animus. `` * 
 
 Her stomach lurched, and the room suddenly tilted. 
 
 The next thing she knew, she was shrinking in size, her body once again beginning to sprout a coat of thick hair. She could feel her entire body quiver, a sensation of warmth flowing through her as her bones, muscles, tendons, and organs reshaped, and re-arranged, themselves. Her arms, hands, legs, and feet shrunk drastically, and her spine and torso elongated. Once again, she sprouted a tail, her nose shifting into a snout. 
 
 After what seemed like an eternity, finally, she opened her eyes. 
 
 `` I -'' she tried to say. Instead, a loud squeak came out. This was followed by a more rapid succession of increasingly louder squeaks as she stared at herself in surprise - and horror. 
 
 `` Well, Hermione,'' Harry said. `` Congratulations, you've successfully become an otter Animagus.'' 
 
 `` With *her* personality? I expected her to, I dunno, become a bird or something, at least. Maybe an eagle?'' Ron chimed in. Much to Hermione's ire - she chittered away furiously as Ron scooped her up in his hands - he looked at her with a ridiculous grin. How dare he! Of course she was still as'ferocious' as ever! 
 
 `` I hate to say it, Hermione, but you're absolutely *adorable*,'' he added. `` At least you can attend a support group for cuddly were-beasts.'' 
 
 Hermione nipped at his fingers. `` Ow! Bloody hell, what was *that* for?'' 
 
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 *Author's Note: I know it's not exactly in-line with the prompt, but I felt inspired. *
