Disclaimer: Man Behind Desk: Did you, or did you not publish content about a book without the author's permission?

Me: I did nothing!

MBD: Boys, take 'er in. I'm done.

Me: Wait! Wait! I did! I did publish another Author's work! I didn't make money off of it, I swear! I don't own anything!

Chapter Seven

Harry awoke to a blowhorn in his ear. His quest to escape the noise plopped his butt on the floor, holding his ringing ears. Laughter abounded. "Mornin'!" one kid called.

Turns out, he slept through morning wake-up, probably because he had to ignore Ron's snoring to be able to get any sleep while in the Gryffindor dorms.

Every boy grabbed a set of clothes and a towel from their luggage and headed towards the bathhouse. The entire reason they had to awaken at six a.m. was because this was the time they signed up to use the showers. Each cabin had its own scheduled shower time. Of course, with how early it was, the sun was barely up, and almost no one else was up except for the girls' cabin that signed up for their six o' clock cleaning time. There were bathrooms in the cabins, but they only had sinks and toilets, no showers.

The camp didn't care what they wore as long as all the important bits were covered, which meant that they could literally just be wearing underwear, and no one would complain (no one ever did, though). Harry wore a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top Mandy gave him that had the words "Fly and Hide Like a Snitch" swirling around it. California was much hotter than Surrey, Harry had come to find out. He appreciated Sherry and Alex's obsessive need to cloth him and take him shopping when they forced him to do outdoor activities.

The boys stumbled out of the bathroom, hair tangled and still not completely awake. One kid even had his shirt on backwards. Anyone who noticed just snickered and muttered, "He'll figure it out."

They wandered over to the cafeteria. It was early enough for everything to be fresh, but too early for everything to be ready. Harry just grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat next to Chase. Everyone else from their cabin gathered around. There was no one else in the cafeteria; they were all still getting some shut-eye.

The two boys grunted in greeting but didn't bother to try to work their mouths open beyond shoveling food in their mouths. An overly chipper Sam the cabin councilor walked up to the boys' table.

"Good morning everyone! We have a busy day ahead of us, so make sure you eat a good breakfast!"

Clearly, he was the only morning person in their cabin.

The boys still had over an hour before lessons would begin. They spent it in the obvious way.

"This way! Come on, slowpokes!"

They decided to go exploring.

Technically, it wasn't against the rules. They were perfectly allowed to explore wherever they wanted, so long as they didn't go past the river that bordered the camp, which was over an hour's walk away. However, going through a thick forest with the sun rising at their backs and no one else awake, forcing them to whisper until they left the general area of the cabins, well, all the boys acted like they were in a secret spy mission. Even the normally reclusive and introverted Chase was in on the action.

They ducked under branches, hid suddenly behind trees, rolled over logs, tried not to step on any branches – managing to crack several in the process – and pointed finger guns at anything that stirred. Generally, they acted like doofuses.

Harry rarely had such an interaction with his friends from Hogwarts. Hermione always seemed to shoot him and Ron down when they tried, he wasn't particularly close with most of the other guys, and the teachers all seemed to have sticks up their butts when they were caught. Even when outside, the teachers' disapproval for all things fun, notably Snape's, often led to a docking of points. It was nice to be an actual kid for once. Actually, if he thought about it, being in America gave him the freedom to be a kid much more than the UK. How ironic.

Ahead of him, the guys stumbled into a clearing. He heard several gasps, which had him running ahead, forgetting the "mission."

When he reached the clearing himself, his reaction mirrored the others'.

In the magical world, it was rare to see more than one type of creature together. They tended to leave each other alone, and they often seemed to have territories. Predators often hunted mundane prey whenever possible, seeing as they were the easier food source.

The was a herd of horse-looking creatures grazing in the clearing. Occasionally, one would shake its head and flames would flicker in its mane. They did not look too similar. Some resembled normal horses, and others resembled unicorns. There were even a few that when their manes flickered, wings of flames rose from their backs.

Surrounding the horses and playing in the skies were small lizards. They looked like Norbert the dragon when he hatched. They didn't seem to care about the horses, excluding one Harry caught from the corner of his eye playing with a foal.

However, there were a few resting on what was visibly nothing. The notable impressions of hooves under them led to the conclusion that there were more creatures there than originally thought.

"Nightmares," one boy breathed.

"And an inferno of pygmy dragons. I think they're all different species, too," another whispered.

Harry hoped afterwards Chase would explain the terms to him.

Suddenly, the dragons flying in the sky started to fly in a vortex-type formation. Then the formation caught on fire.

"Woah!" All the boys were hasty to back up.

The fire tornado lasted for a few seconds, and then it dispersed, leaving small dragons to fly in their previously random, nonorbital paths.

They heard a huff. Turns out, when your head is in the clouds watching dragons light themselves on fire, anything happening on earth completely escaped your notice. One of the horses – Nightmares, as the boy called them – wandered over to their group. It looked young. The Nightmare circled them, boxing the boys in. Suddenly, it surged forward, mane roaring to life. Luckily, the campgrounds were behind them. The boys jolted, running back as if their lives depended on it. In their minds, they did. They didn't think about how as a horse, the beast would easily catch up with them if it cared to. The fear outweighed all rationality. A normal horse could kill a man easily. A magical one wouldn't even need to try.

They ran into the camp grounds just in time for their first lesson, panting and shaking from exertion. It was somewhat ironic, that the beast actually helped them be punctual. If it hadn't, they would have missed their first lesson: the basics. If they had missed the basics, they wouldn't have been able to catch up on the rest. But never mind the "what ifs," they were there on time, and that's what's important.

On time, and sweaty, panting, and drawing everyone's general eye. No one bothered to ask them what happened; Harry suspected the crazed glint he saw in the others' eyes wasn't just his imagination, and his looked just as insane.

They wandered over to a dilapidated building labeled "classrooms." Several other cabins were already there, and Harry could tell that there were more friend groups than had been at the orientation. Girls giggled in groups, shooting looks at the more muscular and less clothed men. The guys eyed girls in short-shorts and tank tops. Hormones are obviously present in this group today, his magic whispered to him. Then again, any time you put young people together you get something like this. Even school could get icky with the sap some of the couples would spout off. Nope, you will never be like them. If you even think about it, I'll make sure you're single forever. Bros before h-!

Would you shut up? You're distracting me. And you could have told me that later! Harry interrupted. He had a feeling he knew where his magic was going, and he was horrified that his puppy-dog innocent magic would know that word. Hormones was bad enough. He'd have to have a serious discussion with his magic later. This could not go on!

Chase was the only reason he didn't look crazy. While Harry was fretting over the lost innocence of his magic (Can't wait till you have a daughter, it griped), Chase dragged him into the cabin. The other boy was used to Harry's behavior. Once Harry's magic learned how to talk to him, it always made little comments that dragged him into discussions.

The classroom had no desks or chairs. It just had a comfortable-looking mat that everyone was meant to sit on. Both the room and mat were circular, and in the center was a middle-aged man. His dark skin was almost blue, and he radiated controlled power. Harry instantly felt his magic settle, before it suddenly lashed out like a toddler running to something that catches its eye. Harry couldn't stop it. His magic touched the man's in a sudden shyness, and the man's previously closed eyes shot open to look straight at Harry. A few others did as well, most probably those who could see magic. The other types probably wouldn't have detected such a shift in so short a time span. They ignored it, though, and everyone gathered around the man. They all chose to face him from the front 180 degrees of his body, feeling instinctively the danger of sitting behind him. Harry's magic settled back around him, obviously now ready to learn.

His voice was as commanding as his presence, a softness combined with a deepness that would gain even the most distracted's attention. "You are here to learn. This will be your only warning. If you screw around in my class, I will have no issue kicking you out," the colloquialism did not deter the seriousness of the warning. "I will be teaching you the basics of what we will do here. The theory, what you will do, and how your magic will respond. Some of this will seem borderline preschool-ish to some of you, but if you don't listen, I guarantee you will miss something important, something that could mean life or death. There is no need for note taking, but attention and seriousness towards this will determine if I let you go through with this. If you can't pass my quiz the lesson before your first transformation, you will not be going home with an animal form. I hope you understand. If not, don't let the door hit you where the sun don't shine on your way out."

Some people fidgeted, but no one made the move to get up.

The man's eyes gained a malevolent glint, "Excellent."

The torture came from the headache halfway through, something intensified in Harry. After a short time in America, Harry was still catching up on the culture and the 'norm' for information known throughout the states. He still had issues remembering even the basics Mrs. Higgindobbins taught him. The information dump was almost too much as is. This one brought him to the edge of his sanity.

"Spiritualasis is achieved when the magic in the body uses magic from the earth to transform one into an animal and imbibes the person's cells with the knowledge and ability to do it again… Oftentimes, the ritual will call forth a spirit to help the magic more easily adapt the person's physical form... When your magic reacts to start the process, you will be encased in what looks like a gold bubble. This bubble will maneuver you and help you as needed. For example, if you are an aquatic creature, it will fill with water to keep you alive. If you are bigger than the space allotted to you allows, you will rise above the others, the bubble growing with you so we still have plenty of space and no crushed people. The bubble is nigh indestructible, and with good reason. Immediately after you undergo the process, the animal mind will take over. The bubble will contain you and make sure you and everyone around you are safe. This bubble we call…" And on and on it went.

Harry learned that they would start transformations in the middle of their stay. The hope was this would give enough time to those who could transform into both forms to adjust and re-go through the process. Even if not, the stragglers would stay until they could, or would wait and reschedule for another lesson. Anyone who left would also hopefully be able to somewhat handle the strain of another form or two and its respective instincts, but if not, there were people capable of teaching them in almost every magical settlement in America.

Turns out, the hourly breaks weren't between different classes, but to break up the monotony of the singular long class! Harry was just happy he got some time to process everything. Lunch was pizza and hamburgers, and in the course of the day Harry went swimming in the lake, foot races, bobbing for apples, and canoe races. Dinner consisted of spaghetti and meatballs, and the last activity scheduled was singing around the campfire, or in this case, bonfire.

The bonfire was where orientation had been. There, Harry got to try s'mores for the first time, met the three sisters he saw at orientation (their names were Hailey, Kailey, and Bailey, although he didn't know which was which), and learned that every teenager has a horrible singing voice if they try to sing louder than their neighbor. Whenever Hogwarts sings the school song, most mumble if anything at all, not wishing to be made fun of for a terrible singing voice. Today, no one cared. Everyone was ready to stink, and so everyone did. Like many things in this new world, Harry found that he loved it.

After the bonfire, Harry spoke quietly with Chase, not wanting anyone to know the inadequacy of his knowledge.

"Nightmares," Chase whispered, "are fire horses. There are several different breeds, but they are reclusive enough that we only know a few. Most of the time, their manes are like what we saw, but if they are distressed they will completely become fire. We think there's some kind of pecking order for the color of the fire, but we don't really know what. It's said that if a Nightmare trusts you, its fire won't burn you, but there's no evidence behind that.

"Pygmy dragons, on the other hand, are almost common in America. The Americas have several native dragon species, and there are farms and reserves for the different types. The pygmy dragon is just what we call smaller dragons, but their breeds are just as diverse as their larger cousins. We call a group of dragons an inferno. You saw them go up in flames, right? That's why. Pygmy dragons tend to stay in large groups; I think it has something to do with predators. Larger breeds habitually live by themselves whenever possible. Even so, it's rare to see either the nightmares or the pygmy dragons in the wild, much less together! Maybe it's something to do with both being related to fire?"

Harry laughed at his friend's curiousness. While he was normally reserved and quiet, Harry found he loved explaining things and did so with a passion. He once suggested Chase become a teacher, but Chase just stuck his tongue out and said, "I'm not dealing with all that standardizing bull. Besides, I hate most snot-nosed brats. Probably would kill one in my first year, and I don't need that on my record." Harry was surprised, but never brought up the topic again.

After a small conversation with his magic about nothing, Harry lied down. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The following days followed in much the same vein, although the boys never built up enough courage to go exploring again.

Today was the day of the ritual, which would reveal their first forms.

The day started off with a breakfast of vegetables and fire-cooked venison. While Americans weren't certain if the diet of the day actually determined anything, they respected their Indian brethren and their culture enough to follow their traditions. The boys from Harry's cabin, and probably everyone else in the camp, discussed what forms they would like to have. One was worrying himself to death; he was convinced he would be a worm. Another contemplated the risks and rewards of having a dragon form. Chase was quiet in his assuredness of his form. Harry mentioned how his father had the form of a stag, and he wondered if his form would be similar.

Finally, it was time.

They dressed in tunics. The ritual would destroy any clothing on them. The "bubble" they learned about in their first lesson would haze around enough that they wouldn't be revealed, but until then the boys had to cover their nakedness with tunics. Tunics the others complained about. Tunics Harry was afraid to mention that were extremely similar to the apparel of the British Wizarding World.

Next, each was handed a potion. It was actually a juice made from some nearby berries, but the adults insisted the juice was a potion because it had magical properties. Harry didn't care; it still tasted better than any potion he'd ever had before. Half of the potion was to be consumed, the other half poured over their bodies during the last legs of the ritual.

They walked into a clearing filled with other campers. There were three such areas in the camps, designed so there would be less crowding. Each boy was directed to the center of a ritual circle filled with different runes, mainly those of the tribes who protected this land. Each circle and placement of person seemed random, but beyond that they all looked the same. The circles aligned with other circles to surround fires in the center. The distances varied, but with several such alignments of ritual circles and fires, it was assured that the warmth of the flames would reach everyone. It helped that the fires were only slightly smaller than bonfires. Spiritualists threw various plants and animal matter into the flames; the smoke changed color with each new addition. It was said that the various biological material would keep away malevolent spirits.

Everyone in their circles lied down on their fronts. More than likely, their forms would prefer that orientation over on their backs. There's an urban legend of a man who lied on his back and turned into a turtle.

The spiritualists stepped outside the range of the flames, bordering the edge of the clearing. Then, they started chanting. The potions bottles rose on their own accord and spilled their contents over the ritual-goers. The smoke from the flames started shifting colors to the leaping flames and lowered to cover all those in the circles. Harry was surprised to learn that breathing in the smoke didn't cause any coughing fit.

Then, the ritual circles flashed, and a dome surrounded each person. This was their "bubbles."

Harry felt his magic go Bye! and shoot downwards from him into the earth. It came back with a Say hello to my little friend and a warmth that surrounded Harry, seeping into his bones, and yet more still swirled around him. Then, it left again, heading for the flames. He heard it intone, If anyone wishes to help us on this journey, come! Several others had already done so, and Harry could see smoky shapes physically leave the flames to join their selected ritual-goers. Some bubbles glowed gold and turned solid so no one could look in. Only a few rose in the air and grew like their teacher had taught. More and more bubbles were turning solid, and still Harry's magic hummed at the edge of the flames. Harry would've felt worried – he knew his magic reached the flames before many others' – but he had gone into a trance, and he knew it was coming. If anyone could've asked Harry what it was, he wouldn't be able to tell them, but his trance fogged any worry of what it was away.

Before Harry's magic made it back, Harry's world went dark.

The spiritualists' chanting stopped; it was all up to the ritual-goers' magic now. It was a good thing, too, because their chanting would have been interrupted by their own incredulousness as a shape formed in the smoke. It wasn't formless like most spirits were, nor did it look smoky – it looked solid. The spirit crept forward towards Harry Potter. After it entered the ritual circle, the normal golden bubble appeared.

Harry woke up in a fog bank. "Hello?" he called.

"Hello," a shape rose from the smoke. It had a scythe in one hand, or at least Harry assumed it was a hand. The shape was completely covered in a cloak.

"Who are you?" Harry tried to show a brave face.

"Why, child, don't you recognize me? You've met me several times now. I even created this form, so you could recognize what your people think of me." Its voice was a haunting whisper, not necessarily scary, but definitely not of this world.

"I don't understand."

"No? Why, my child, I'm shocked. Surely you know who I am. Afterall, I am Death." The genderless voice said clearly.

Harry stopped breathing. What? He could tell it was truthful; he could feel it. Does that mean I died?

"Oh, quiet your fear. You are not dead, that's me!" Did Death's voice sound… chipper? And did it just… make a pun?

"Ugh, you mortals. Think I must be serious all the time. But I'm not here on a work-related matter right now. Right now, I'm here to appoint my new chosen!"

"…What?" Harry thought that maybe his brain just stopped working, or maybe he was just dreaming.

"Hm, how to explain this in mortal terms…" Death muttered to itself. Louder, and to Harry, "Magic is a gift to your people, yes? Magic is able to give this gift when Fate allows it. If it were on Magic's terms, every being would have magic. Magic, Fate, and I all being anthropomorphized reconstructions of such terms. Do you follow me so far?"

"I guess." No.

"Don't lie to me, child. Concepts of your world – Fate, Destiny, and Fortune are all sisters; Magic; me; and several others – all have a… how do you say… consciousness. We do control several aspects of your mortal plane. We were given these jobs from a higher domain, although I cannot tell you for sure which of your long list of deities it would actually be. Fate likes to be a control freak, her sisters not far behind. Fate gives permission for a 'Consciousness' to choose for whom to bestow their gifts to. Magic and Knowledge are both overly eager children who want to give everyone everything. Me, on the other hand, have very few I can choose, and more often than not I have to share with Magic."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?"

"When you were hit with that curse – the one from when you were a baby – you were not actually hit with the full brunt of the magic. In the seconds before it could touch you, Fate told me I had a potential chosen. I couldn't just let my chosen die right off the bat. I was able to create a thin film of sorts in front of you; your mother gave me just enough time. The film changed the nature of the curse. Rather than prematurely aging your soul to the point of calling on my reapers – oh, by the way, that's how the spell kills – it turned into a mark bearing my power, which blessed you how I wished to. It didn't go quite as I planned, though. I couldn't create a proper barrier in time, so some of his soul got caught in the vacuum of the magic."

Harry wasn't certain what to think. This was almost like his first few days in America. Too much information in too short a time. "His soul?"

"Yes. We'll get more to that later. Now, we're here to talk about your primary form."

"My…form?" Harry was pretty certain he sounded like an idiot right now.

"Yes. I think you should meet… you." Death chuckled at the horrible excuse of a joke.

The fog darkened, and from the shadows surged a beast. It's shoulder matched Death's, who's imposing figure reached upwards of six feet or more. The thing had a long snout, rounded head, and sharp teeth. It stood proudly; the long whip-like tail rested halfway down its legs. Its thick but short black fur rippled, and suddenly the fur was scales, just as black as before. The claws were partially hidden by the fog, but Harry thought they'd match the intimidating aura of the rest of the beast. The shadows seemed drawn to it, and its creeping red eyes burned through Harry's own.

This was him? What he was to become? Such a powerful creature that he could feel its magic from here? Harry's mind short-circuited.

"I think I'll call him he for right now to avoid confusion. Normally, Spiritualists wouldn't actually see their form before they transformed, but they also normally don't commune with their helper spirits before they transform either, if ever. I doubt most spirits can conjure the likeness of the ones they're helping, anyhow.

"He is what your people call a hellhound. I just know his kind as my helpers. His kind is the ruling breed of the hellhounds, which I bred personally to achieve maximum efficiency. They are my personal helpers, and I will admit, I do get attached. It seems only fitting that my chosen human would also become my chosen hunter."

"Wh-what… do you mean by that?"

"I have two types of beings that help me gather souls. I only personally deal with the ultra-important ones, or the ones no one else can reach. I have what you would call reapers or angels, who are of human form. I believe the dead have decided that the reapers ferry people to hell while the angels ferry people to heaven. I think that's what they decided at least… Hard to say, your people are so confusing.

"Then, there are the hellhounds. The lowest tier guard the gates of hell. Those ones are known for bones armoring them or shown through their skin and their fire that seeps from the orifices in their skin and any opening in the being. I never did understand why your artists never show the fire that leaks from their buttholes, though."

All Harry could think of was too much information.

"Anyway, the next level up guard heaven. They look more like your average dog, though. After that would be the grims. They guard graveyards and people of interest. Your godfather, had he gone through this specific ritual, probably would have become a grim. They normally only appear to people as warnings, but many see them as a sign that death's coming. Heh, that's kinda funny. But, why would I bother with that? I'll come for you sooner or later.

"Lastly, we have the kind you are. I've never seen one so dark before, but I like it. I have them help ferry people to the afterlife. They are sometimes known as my hunters, simply because they sometimes must track errant souls who think they can escape me or just simply lose their way. They normally control shadows and sometimes one other element. I might have to bless you with one, now that I think about it. Another time, another place. This is his intimidating appearance." To the dog, "If you would, please."

The dog shook, and the scales turned back into sleek fur. Its eyes dimmed in intensity, although still a dark ruby or blood red. The shadows crept away from it. It looked more like a giant dog than the beast from before, although Harry couldn't pinpoint which breed it looked like. It still had much to sharp canines and talons on its feet, but it looked much more approachable.

It walked up to him. It stood over him, and it snorted when it reached him. It shrank to eye-level with him and nudged him with its nose.

"Oh, yeah," Death interrupted, "they can also change their size from about medium dog sized up to larger than what you saw earlier, although you'd need to be older before you saw that height as an ability. Your form matches you in age, afterall."

Harry and the hellhound ignored the being. He reached out, and it let him pet it. The thing even started to lean into his hand when he started to scratch it behind its ear! It softly woofed and dissipated back into fog. Harry turned his awestruck eyes to Death.

Death pulled a random piece of parchment and a quill from nowhere. "Well, we've met. Check. Showed you your form. Check. I think that covers this get together. I'll see you soon, Harry."

Harry went to protest, but he blinked and found himself lying in the bubble from before, but not as himself. Long legs stretched before him with claws attached to the ends. He could vaguely see a snout in front of his eyes. He could feel his ears swiveling on his head. Harry growled. Scales formed from the fur on his legs and along his snout. He also felt stiffer down his back.

That-

And you wonder how I know those words. Magic, his magic, interjected. He hadn't realized it at the time, but during his confrontation he hadn't had any input with his magic.

What happened?

Well, that spirit – Death? – helped prepare me for your change. You needed more death in you than I realized, so that helped. He – she? – it? – took your conscious mind away to prepare you for the change. Said it should help prepare you mentally. Said it could ruin something in your head. Of course, I said there was nothing to ruin, but it didn't listen to me! Anyway, we changed! Yay! Our form is so bad-

Okay, okay, I get it! No he didn't, but he was glad his magic was there for him.

Harry glanced at the bubble surrounding him. It didn't seem to have grown nor moved from its position on the ground, so Harry assumed he was in a smaller form than he thought of. Harry glimpsed darkened shapes surrounding the bubble. His hackles rose without permission, so did his gums. Darkness enveloped him. It was liquid almost, but more importantly, it was safe. Darkness meant he wouldn't be spotted, darkness meant he was in his territory, darkness meant-

Harry shook himself out of it. He knew the shapes should be the adult Spiritualists. He knew that right now, he was the fiercest being in this camp. Said fiercest being tried to stand, but found his legs shaking and his weight unfamiliar. He almost fell over, and his subsequent steps made him question if he would even be considered more intimidating than a puppy.

Soon, though, Harry was stalking around the length of his bubble. He was so bored! His magic informed him that he had been in his talk with Death for only five minutes, but Harry honestly felt he had been there for hours, and so did the crick in his neck. He was finally able to drop the darkness. When Death mentioned control over shadows, Harry didn't think he meant pitch black!

The bubble turned clear-ish. There was still a gold film, but everyone on the outside could see in, and he could see out. Some looked professional with clipboards and pens and pantsuits. Others looked armed to the hilt, ready to defend if something went wrong like the summer of '86 fiasco. And even more had an almost soothing look to them. They were the psychiatrists and doctors. They all looked shocked when they saw him. He only noticed enough to know where he might need to escape.

The bubble shimmered, and two people walked in. One – man, according to his scent – was armored to the hilt, the other one – woman – naked as a newborn. Harry would've blushed if his hellhound instincts couldn't care less about a naked human, and if the other one didn't seem as if it were a threat. They looked in awe at him. The woman cooed and stepped slightly forward. Harry felt his scales relax back into fur. He could practically taste the amazement these people were putting off. He stepped up to her, ready for his petting. Harry realized his shoulders matched her waist as he leaned against her while she petted him.

Harry knew who these people were. They were standard procedure. The ones with clipboards oversaw documenting what he was for the legal issues. The doctors helped determine if he were in the right state of mind or if he needed someone to help him get rid of his instincts. The protection detail was just that, protection. They didn't charge forward; it could spook the new Spiritualist into instinct fight-or-flight mode. The naked woman was meant to be the least intimidating possible. She helped guide the human back to their form, and it was easier to do so if the animal inside didn't classify them as a threat. Her guard had his wand ready to stun, tranquilizer dart in the other hand, and stun gun attached to his waist for easy accessibility, along with a real gun, sleep gas, cherry bombs, bear spray, and probably other things that weren't explained in the lessons. His only job was to make sure the woman came out of the bubble in one piece. Since ever animal was different, the only way to make sure that you could have any effect against them was to prepare for anything. A dragon could take stun guns, real guns, bombs, spells, and several other things before it went down, so better safe than sorry was the name of the game in this instance.

The woman coaxed Harry back to human form. His instincts settled in the back of his mind, a part of him, but neither yet ready to completely submerge themselves in each other. That was supposed to be normal. It would come with time and practice. That submergence determined if a Spiritualist mastered their form or not.

As he was wrapped in a warm wool blanket, Harry's mind was forcing him to look inwards rather than around him.

Death… I met Death. So strange. It didn't answer any of my questions. Oh well, hopefully that was the last I see of him.

Don't count on it. His magic interrupted before it became a full-scale monologue. He's Death, she can come see you anytime. It can do anything. Besides, even if you never see him in real life, you will die one day, and then we'll meet it as we ascend or descend, hopefully ascend. Might as well make the most of life now!

What does that have to do with anything? I wasn't becoming depressive.

Au contraire, you're a hellhound now. That means you'll naturally become an emo, and I must prevent as much moping as possible!

I am not turning emo! And who said hellhounds are emo, anyway?

Duh! Everyone knows it! They like the dark. They have to deal with lost souls. They howl at the moon.

Harry interjected unamusedly, That's wolves.

And…and…they're emo! So, suck it up, buttercup! I'm here to help.

My hero, he responded drily, what would I do without you? Harry's thoughts paused, And did you tell Death I didn't have a mind to lose?

No, I said you already lost it! He grumbled as his magic laughed.

Harry's Journal – Table of Contents

Culture Differences, Extreme Basics of the Differences of Magic, Magic Sensing…page 3

The Basics of Money, Explanation of Foci, Based Magic, My Magical Sensing, Spiritualist Basics …page 4

Classification of Spells, Magical Tattoos, The True Evils of Magic…page 5

Animagus Ritual, Death and its Hellhounds…page 7

Sorry for the long wait. Life (and my inherent need to procrastinate) forced my hand. But look! But see! Nice long pretty chapter to make up for it!

I actually used the hellhounds from Riddick as a base for Harry's form. Not exactly the same, but there are some similarities (I'm not too used to trying to write out details, though, so it probably seems way more similar than I meant it to.). (I've only seen bits and pieces from the movie, the only reason I knew about it was because I did a search on hellhounds to figure out what I wanted Harry's form to look like.)

Also, thanks guys for helping me find that story! This story was inspired by questionablequotation's Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar, or at least the idea of using Native American tribal practices definitely came from it. I suggest you go check it out if you're interested!

Also, next chapter should reveal Harry's nonmagical form. Trust me, a huge part of the reason why I chose this canine is because of the irony behind it.

I actually tried to leave Death slightly mysterious along with a slightly goofy-dad joke type of being (and then my wanting to explain everything started popping in). I tried to make Harry so bewildered that he couldn't ask questions. If you have a question for Death (or me), tell me in the comments or PM me, and I'll try to explain in the story if at all possible.

Finally, actual question for this chapter: Should I try making these Author's Notes shorter (and if so, how)? Should I move more content to the beginning? Do you guys just don't care and skip Author's Notes? (Dumb question, if you did that, you wouldn't be answering this question.)

Answers to review question(s):

Nitroexpress: I think the shadow part makes him inherently dark in the literal sense. And in the magical UK sense, remember they consider a grim a dark creature, and Harry's now a step beyond that! The red chief thing was just meant to show Harry's magic's distractedness and that the Spiritualist magic is heavy duty, so just a general warning to everyone. Harry's just the only one who can understand his magic so intimately. Hope this helps!

Thanks for all the positive feedback guys!

Published: 3/31/18

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