Hermione watched with pleasure in her eyes as fur crept up from the skin, hands elongating and fingers stretching, feet arching and claws bursting from behind nails. The dress the woman had been wearing was soon enough reduced to shreds, her skin a scarred up mess of cream skin and soft fur. The colour matched Bellatrix’s last name and the texture was quite shaggy, an imitation or a holdover from her curly hair that left Hermione humming in pleasure. She moved in front of Bellatrix, held her tightly by the cheeks and felt as the face beneath her palms pushed out, crinkling beads of bone solidifying into a snout. She reached back past Bellatrix’s torso, helped to steady the wavering body and rolled her onto her side.