"Remus! Remus hurry up!" Stella called exasperatedly, attempting to rush her uncle.
Remus wasn't actually her Uncle, though he wasn't truly related to her at all. He was her legal guardian, and had adopted her after her parents we're rendered unable to keep her, though never specified how he had known them. But Stella found it much easier to refer to him as an uncle rather than her guardian, yet she loved him like the father she had never had.
"I'm coming Stella!" Remus yelled in response from the other room, hastily putting away some of the documents he had been previously filing and rushed over to her through the narrow corridor of their derelict cottage.
"Finally." She chuckled with an eye roll, beckoning him to follow her as she opened the front door and exited the small house.
"Patience is a virtue, Stella." He told her with wiseness beyond his years as they walked out into the slightly boggy fields that surrounded their cottage, which was literally in the middle of nowhere.
Tonight was the full moon, and Stella always stayed with her uncle on these nights, but in her animagus form of course. She'd have been sentencing herself to an extremely painful death had she been with a werewolf and remained in her human form.
Stella concentrated as the cold nights breeze teased her raven curls, successfully switching to her alternative body, that of a big white dog- the colour of fresh crisp snow or the bright white blossoms that graced the branches of the shrub sitting beside their front door. The dog was about the size of a fully grown large German shepherd, which was fairly huge.
Stella could remember how Remus was rendered speechless after the revelation that this was indeed both her patronus and her animagus form. He had never explained why though.
He had also been fairly shocked when she had the idea of becoming an animagus, saying that the way her mind worked truly reminded him of an old friend. She never heard more from him about the before mentioned old friend, yet didn't expect to.
Remus would often say random things about previous friends, or even family, that confused her- mainly because she would rarely get an explanation. He had once mentioned something of her father, though Stella thought he had not meant to, because as soon as he had let it escape his chapped lips- he swore profusely under his breath after her onslaught of questions. He had said that she was a true troublemaker, just like her father had been in his prime.
Anyway, as Stella stood upon all fours beside her slowly transforming uncle, she began running circles around him with chirpy barks every now and then- anything to distract him from the pain of his transition into a werewolf. She watched him grit his teeth as sparse hair prickled from his temples and arms, his height increasing considerably as his shirt ripped off of his quickly expanding figure. His spine contorted into an uncomfortably bad posture, his back curling downwards as the bones of his vertebrae stuck out from beneath the skin like a column of  toy cars had been stuffed under the flesh of his back. His eyes glazed over, turning jet black like the dark inky sky.
Stella used to be much more bothered by his full moon episodes, and was especially traumatised the first time around, but by now she was used to it- even though witnessing her loveable scatter brained uncle turning into a rampaging monster with claws as long as her forearms and teeth as sharp as daggers was still enough to form a small lump in her throat, hitching her crackly breath against it.
He began to plod around the field, ripping trees from their very roots and scratching anything that would stay still, Stella running around in his wake the entire time- the least she could be was company for the poor beast in this dark time.
They ran around non stop for the entire night, an effective release of excess energy and stress for Stella- though she knew she would be back to nursing his cuts and bruises by morning.
She hated to see her uncle in the state that he fell into after an eventful night of the full moon, he would always be a couple shades yellower, have many wounds (some small, though some could be very serious) and be exhausted beyond easy repair- the dark bags under his eyes and sluggish tendencies were a dead giveaway of his tiredness, even if he insisted he was fine and all was well.
But she knew there was nothing she could do to prevent this, unfortunately.