Disclaimer: No, just (yawn) no.

Chapter Eight

Harry woke this morning to an elephant trumpeting nearby. Every person who underwent the transformation had found themselves asleep soon afterwards. The process is draining for both the body and the mind. Everyone falls asleep in a sleeping bag provided by the camp near the bonfire area to help the rookies' animals to settle down back into their consciousnesses. As it turns out, sometimes, when one wakes up their animal mind wasn't completely gone to begin with!

The elephant, no-maj and huge and loud, was startled from sleep, reacting in such a way that the most primal reaction came forth from those around him. Normally, this would result in a person screaming or jumping away or something of that sort. Normally, people are not freshly minted Spiritualists whose primal instincts are now more closely aligned with their animal form rather than their human form. Normally, one doesn't see a teenager transform into a blue whale and then crash into the lake. Normally, normally, normally. Now Harry learned that America just doesn't do normal. Their customs, their food, their magic was as abnormal from the United Kingdom's as possible. Harry normally didn't completely mind it; he was the same, after all.

This morning, after a particularly draining ritual and transformation, he wasn't quite feeling his normal self, and neither were several others.

Harry transformed into his average dog sized form, growling at the beast who dared ruin his beauty sleep. He heard several others all around, yowling and growling and trumpeting and hissing in agreement.

The sound of a gunshot quieted them all down. The one his magic called Red Chief stood, an old pistol still smoking in his hands. His weathered face was unreadable; his mouth somewhere between a frown and a straight line.

"Now," he called, "while I understand many of you are unhappy with the wakeup call, be assured we will not tolerate anymore tomfoolery for such nonsense."

Harry's tail twitched. Of course they were all making fools of themselves, that was loud! He swallowed the growl forming in his throat, his creature instincts towards a threat fighting his human intellect. If Harry was in the right state of mind, he might've even compared the similarities of the two to him and his magic.

Harry looked around, and immediately felt guilty for his initial reaction. His sleeping bag, along with several others, were ripped apart by the transformation. His claws had ripped through the material easily to react to the perceived threat. He had to stop himself from laughing, though, when he some animals tangled in their cocoons. One Chihuahua was running around inside, completely unable to find the opening to the bag. The only reason he knew it was a Chihuahua was because the girl had slept beside him and took forever to shut up about her "oh-so-cute" transformation.

She was just as yappy as the animal she became.

With some help from the teachers, cabin counselors, and anyone who didn't wake up in the violent, animalistic way Harry and several other newbies (read: every new spiritualist within a mile of the elephant) did, all the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (for some, literally) campers were able to get started for the day.

Everyone, that is, excluding Harry.

He didn't feel any animalistic instincts like he had when he first transformed. By all considerations, since Harry had not mastered his select form yet; there should be no reason he was still transformed. The animal spirit mind and instincts takes over, or at least hovers around, the human mind. This actually helped the human mind cope and get a feel for its new body. If not for this protection, most went insane.

Harry didn't feel insane, nor did he feel any awkwardness in his new form. It felt just as natural as being in human form. Excluding the first shock that morning, Harry couldn't tell where his animal mind even was.

He lied on the ground, whimpering and whining when someone would suggest a solution, only for it not to work. He tried imagining himself as human. He tried communicating and negotiating with his magic. (I don't know. You got us into this mess.) He even tried standing on his hind legs and walking like a human. (All he got for that one was some girls telling him he looked "cute" and some boys snickering and saying "cute" in that faux-feminine accent all boys could do when imitating girls and making fun of their friends for being so "manly." Not even turning himself into his spikey form could convince them to stop ribbing him.)

While the adults and experts debated, Harry looked around pathetically. He might not be allowed to find out if his other form could be possible tomorrow! The way the adults were talking, he might never be human again! Harry had to get away from there.

Like magic, he felt the shadows cover him. The darkness's coolness encroached on him from where his shadow rested behind him upwards towards the top of his back and forwards to finally cover his front. The darkness closed around his eyes, circles forming in such a way it seemed like he had a camera lens turning and closing until there was a small circular pinprick of light, and then everything was black and cool. Harry did not panic, however, because only a few seconds later warmth touched his face, and the reverse happened. Light spiraled outward, warmth and light moved from the top of his head to under his back paws. During the darkness and light's movement in covering his eyes, Harry could not focus on what his eyes were seeing. He could tell there was light and darkness, but as if in a daydream, the could not see colors or shapes. In some ways, he went temporarily blind.

Once the light had completely re-submerged his vision, Harry realized he was not in the campgrounds anymore. It looked like he was in a dark swamp. Shapes filtered through the water in front of his nose. Warm, soupy mud covered his paws and lower legs. His nose was assaulted with the smell of rotting vegetation, and his hide felt the tickle of brambles shifting in the wind behind him.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to a house hidden in the swamp. It looked like an American Civil War era mansion found in the south. It had a white paint job and tall columns supporting its three stories. No lights were on, but it seemed inhabited.

Harry lumbered over to the mansion. His feet made icky squishing and squelching sounds as he plodded through the goopy mess. As he got closer to the building, the mud lessened, and he walked on firmer and firmer ground. By the time he reached the gates of the mansion, Harry was walking on springy green grass that every housewife wished lined her yard, although Harry was walking in the most undignified manner he could, shaking his paws clean of the mud as he went. He tried wiping them in the grass, he tried dignified paw shaking, and then, he was just moving his paws as much as he could to try to get the tar off his feet!

Quit being a baby, his magic said. It's just mud.

Easy for you to say, Harry grumbled, it's not in between your pads and claws. There's so much, I think my nail's about to pop off!

His magic muttered about over dramatic wizards and Why do I get the weird one? and He's such a girl.

Harry growled at that last one. He was not a girl, thank you very much!

His fur flexed, shifting from smooth fluff into the spears and spikes of his more intimidating look. Harry was not happy. Why couldn't he just be normal?

The gates – black, metal, intimidating things with spearpoints just visible on top - were open, although Harry couldn't read the sign on the arch overhead. For some reason, fog covered the skyline, but the ground, while dark, was perfectly clear. When he passed through, he felt a slight resistance, which pushed evenly on anything between the iron gates, as if he walked through a wall of magic. This had the added effect of brushing off all the icky goop known as mud off himself, which Harry was instantly grateful for.

The dark windows and scenery did nothing to detract from the beauty of the mansion. It was almost like Hogwarts, in a way. There was something mystical about it that mere architecture could never achieve.

As Harry lumbered up to the mansion, he realized he was not the size of a normal dog. He stood at the brass door knocker, and he hadn't even walked up the steps yet! Either he had grown, or he was next to a doll house. Then again, didn't Death say hellhounds could change their size?

He was about to climb up the steps when he felt a prickling on his neck, literally. His fur was hardening, protecting any area that would be a predator's immediate target spot. Under his belly and around his neck, namely. Harry spotted red sparks of light surrounding him, although while they weren't moving, he knew they were watching him, that those things were eyes!

Harry shivered. This was too much like a horror movie!

Hearing a creak, Harry whipped his head back to the front door. A tall, dark, hooded figure rested in the entryway. An aura washed around Harry, an aura he knew all too well.

Death? he wondered.

"Oh, my," yep, only Death had that haunting whisper. "What have we here? Child, I don't know whether to commend you for finding this realm or reprimand you for doing so without my guidance. Now, let's see if we can get you to a more… simple form."

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

Double sorry for both the wait and the length of this chapter. I had huge writers block, and I'm horrible at keeping myself focused on any of my goals (such as finishing this). Most of this section was written in one sitting, and I felt like this was a good place to stop. (My personal goal is 1,000 words a chapter, so at least you got that…) Unfortunately, I see this being a theme in the coming months. Hopefully not, but we'll see (but I will finish this! I hate uncompleted stories!).

I meant to "reveal" Harry's nonmagical form in this chapter, but that's not how it played out. Honestly, the entire swamp scene to the end came to me as I was typing this up. At least you can see it in the new cover I made. The two pictures I found in my screenshots, so I have no clue where they came from! They're not mine, and I send my thanks (and disclaimer) to the people who made them!

dragons9: The horcruxes will be explained either next chapter or several chapters from now (I have decided not to make any promises for when I put information in). I have no plans for pairings at the moment; I might not have any pairings at all. Depends on what I feel like when I get to that portion. I'm also not too certain how I want Harry to interact with Britain, so no clue about adoptions or anything of that sort. I hate putting plans to my stories now, simply because I never keep to the plan. I kind of just imagine specific little scenes, and build the story off of that. Trust me, it's a wondering story for us both.

Thanks for all the support! Any theories will have to wait for just a little longer!

Published: 6/11/18

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