Tom crawled out of the lake, still shivering from the close call with the angry bird mob.
He gave the departing flock one last wary glance, then shuddered violently.
Looking down at his dripping, sodden fur, Tom reached up and—without hesitation—peeled the entire wet pelt off like taking off a soaked coat.
Underneath: pristine white skin in red-checkered boxer shorts and a little white tank top.
He wrung the fur coat out like laundry. Lake water poured from it in a dramatic waterfall.
A couple more twists, a vigorous shake—and the fur was suddenly dry, fluffy, and pristine again.
Tom stepped back into it, tugged the tail into place with a practiced yank, and—poof—good as new.
But the moment he was dressed, he shook his head sharply.
Then—whack!—slapped his own left ear with an open paw.
A small fish shot out of his right ear like a cork from a bottle.
It even managed to smack Tom across the face with its tail mid-flight before bouncing and flopping back into the lake.
Viktor watched Tom curse at the water in cartoonish fury, shook his head, and—shimmer—shifted back into miniature unicorn form.
He lifted a hoof and gently pushed away one overeager foal that was trying to nibble his silver mane.
This new body felt powerful. Fast. The magic inside flowed freely, though it required wandless casting techniques to direct properly.
After a few experimental tries, Viktor discovered he could also channel spells through the magical organs of whatever creature he became.
Focusing, he let a soft emerald-green light bloom at the tip of his tiny spiral horn.
The light fell to the thick silver moss beneath his hooves.
Instantly the moss responded—growing rapidly, spreading outward in lush, vibrant waves.
The little unicorns clustered around him gasped in unison, eyes wide with astonishment.
They stared at their own chubby little horn-nubs, then shook their heads with all their might, trying to copy him.
Tiny sparks of white light flickered at the tips of their baby horns… and that was it.
Nothing else happened.
Viktor noticed their adorable attempts and felt a spark of excitement.
That faint white glow was the unicorns' innate magic—a gift for banishing darkness, repelling evil, and shattering curses.
Even the most powerful dark wizard or cursed artifact would suffer grievous wounds—or be utterly annihilated—by a full-grown unicorn's full-force charge infused with that purifying light.
Curious, Viktor turned inward and tried to tap into the same innate gift in his borrowed body.
What bloomed at the tip of his horn wasn't white light.
It was silvery mist—swirling, gentle, unmistakably the beginning of a Patronus Charm.
He cut the spell short before it could fully form, then scratched his chin with a hoof.
As expected… right now I'm only copying the shape, not the essence.
To truly access a creature's innate magic while transformed, he'd need deeper understanding—of both the animal's unique gifts and the Animal Transfiguration spell itself.
At present, his mastery was still basic.
He could only become small-to-medium creatures (cat-sized to dog-sized), and only if he had an extremely detailed mental model of their anatomy.
Time to ask Grandpa to send over the family library's books on innate magical creature abilities.
And maybe ask Professor McGonagall for some advanced Transfiguration tutoring again.
Oh—and Professor Babbling for Ancient Runes. That could help with the deeper theory.
Lost in thought, Viktor absentmindedly lowered his head and started nibbling on the silver moss beneath him.
"Mmm… ahhh… wow, this texture! This flavor!"
The moss melted on his tongue like moonlight turned to frost-sugar—crisp yet yielding, with the clean, cool aftertaste of deep-forest humus after rain.
The surface wasn't slimy at all; it felt like the finest velvet kissed by dew.
Each tiny filament resisted gently between his teeth before dissolving, releasing a rush of chilled, silvery juice that slid down his throat like liquid starlight.
First taste: almost nothing—just the faintest whisper of sweetness, like snowmelt from a glacier under starlight.
Then, as he chewed, layers unfolded: the faint woody incense of ancient oak barrels, a breath of cold moonflower, and—after swallowing—a lingering, mint-like coolness that opened his sinuses without any burn.
It was impossibly clean, impossibly alive.
"Mmm… ahhh…" Viktor couldn't help humming again. The experience was too novel.
As a human, food enjoyment came from seasoning, cooking, memory, association.
But as a unicorn? This was raw, primal joy—pure bodily delight in perfect nourishment.
Every mouthful seemed to make the magic inside this borrowed body flow smoother, warmer. Muscles under the silver coat tingled with quiet strength.
He lowered his head for another bite, this time deliberately curling his tongue around a single patch to savor the velvety breakdown.
Silver juice stained the white fur at the corners of his mouth, glittering in the dappled light.
No wonder they guard this place so fiercely, Viktor thought.
This moss wasn't just food.
It was sustenance for their magic—purification for their souls, nourishment for their innate light.
He could feel it: as the energy absorbed, a pure, unfamiliar magical current was forming inside this unicorn body—clean, bright, and serene.
"Not just tasty," he concluded silently, giving the moss carpet a gentle hoof-tap.
"For a unicorn, this stuff is basically soul detergent and magic fertilizer. No wonder they treasure it."
"Hmm… next time I should try shifting into other creatures and taste their food too. Bet the flavors and textures would be completely different. That's going to be fun."
Still thinking, he tilted his head and nibbled at a nearby shrub.
"Huh… not great. The leaves are too tough, no real chew. But the twigs? Surprisingly good."
"Mmm… let me try this one over here..."