Harry thought his grandpa and grandma were pretty cool. I mean, sure, he wished he had a mom and dad like the other kids, but having grandparents is cool too! They're like normal parents, except grander!

He stopped asking about his parents pretty early on. He used to ask his grandpa about them all the time, and he would never look him in the eyes, he would just say that they're gone, but that he's glad Harry's with him. Sometimes his grandma would look like she wanted to say something, but she wouldn't. In the end, though, it doesn't matter, cause grandpa's right. They're gone, and he wasn't gone with them, and life goes on. And new things happen.

The first thing that seven-year old Harry Osenberg tried to do when he figured out he was a magician, was become a Jedi.

He failed, again and again, he just couldn't get that pulling thing down! Or that pushing thing. Or anything really, magic's pretty tough. Sometimes he could glow a little, but there wasn't much use to that, and it also wasn't super Jedi-like. Jedis were sneaky and wore cool robes, but were also really fast and jumped everywhere! And Jedi could just wave their hands and trick people! Harry could trick people, but not like Jedi.

He was pretty good at the sneaking, and the running, and the jumping though. His dad said he couldn't do all that around the other kids cause it might make them jealous, but sometimes if it was just him and Lynn he'd show her how high he could jump! Lynn didn't get jealous, and she thought it was cool! He was like a weird frog! Or a Jedi!

The first thing that ten-year old Harry Osenberg tried to do when he got bored at school was learn how to airbend. Sure wizard classes were cool and all but imagine being able to fly! Harry couldn't fly. But he could sort of push the air around if he tried. It helped to use his wand, but that was cheating since Avatar Aang didn't have a wand he could still bend. But if he focused on how he felt when he DID use his wand for magic, but wasn't actually using the wand cause he wasn't a cheater, it was easier to push the air around!

He wasn't a master airbender by any means, but his grandpa always said that "Different people learn different things at different speeds. Because we're different!" and then he would pat his head. Harry loved his grandpa, and he wasn't afraid to say it because he wasn't a loser who hid his feelings like Jamie.

The first thing that thirteen-year old Harry Osenberg did when he had a free weekend in Los Angeles was find a really tall building to jump off of. He wasn't gonna kill himself though, that's what the wagon of hay was for! Assassins were also sneaky, like Jedi, but they had those cool wrist things and were always exploring around rooftops. That's what Harry liked to do the most, explore, he thought the killing people thing was whack.

It was kind of lonely being in LA. His grandpa said that there was a better school for him here, but it sucked being so far away from his old friends. He could text them, but it never felt the same.

LA was huge though! He could run for miles upon miles here and be in the same district. He thought it was cool how big the city was, it was bigger than some countries, with more people too! Still though, it didn't matter that there were millions of people here when he had no friends. Well he could make more friends. Maybe.

The first thing that Harry Osenberg did when he turned eighteen was snap his own wand. He was lucky, after all, his birthday landed on the summer solstice, June 20th. Plus the desert is so close by!

The 18th birthday of a witch or a wizard meant as little to them, magically, as their 17th. Similarly, the solstice itself had little to no effect, magically. Location, too, rarely changed the intensity of magic for anyone but the most magically-attuned sorcerers. However, intent and belief are the building blocks of all magic.

Harry knew this, his professors knew this, it was drilled into his head over and over. So why would he try to make up a ritual, in the middle of the desert, on the hottest, longest day of the year, especially one that would involve snapping his wand, potentially stranding him if he wasn't prepared ahead of time?

Because he wanted to.

Intent and belief are the building blocks of magic itself. Equal exchange, sacrifice, environment, and context, were the tools he would use to create something truly magical. Harry wasn't religious in any sense, but he did have some amount of faith. He believed in magic, he knew it existed within him. But he didn't want magic to just be within him, he wanted to BE magic. And what kind of magician would he be if he could only do magic while waving a wand about?

So he made a circle first, big, with a nice chalk he purchased. Around the edges he placed poppies he had preserved since their bloom in April. This kind, the California Poppy, was rare these days since their seeds lay dormant until there was sufficient rainfall. He had taken a trip up Highway 1 in early spring, though, and managed to find some then.

Inside the circle he, very carefully, drew a seven-sided star, a heptagram. He had ground up some of the extra poppies into a lovely orange dye, and mixed with the chalk it made a color that almost blended into the cracked ground.

In the middle of the star he placed: a nice pillow so he could kneel without hurting his knees, and his wand. Oak and a thunderbird feather, stubborn and wild. He wiped away the tear from his eye before stopping, and carefully placing the tear on the wand. Rainfall in the desert. He was gonna miss his wand, honestly, but he had to do this.

He kneeled, and looked up. The sun was almost in position. Carefully, he held his wand, and he waited. And he breathed in, and breathed out. Breathe in, breathe out. He would breathe in, then he would breathe out. His lungs heated up. A spark, soon erupting into a roaring flame and he snapped - crack - the wood broke cleanly and before he lost his nerve he grabbed the thunderbird feather in the middle and ate it.

It tasted like metal, but sweet and airy, a summer storm. It was the sweetest, most forbidden fruit he had ever tasted. It was amazing. God, he was so smart, this was a great idea.

And then he collapsed, his last thought before falling unconscious being "wait, holy shit I just ate a magical feather please don't kill me".

When I awoke, I couldn't see anything. I panicked for about two seconds before realizing I was face-down against the ground, and righted myself to see the bright blue sky stretching for miles and miles, the sun drifting lazily down but with plenty of road to go still. And Katie's smirking face. I groaned.

"You know, you've gotta be the stupidest smart kid I know," she said. Katie was a smartass at the best of times, and I am way too tired to deal with her snark. Wait a minute, no he wasn't.

"Shaddupdoodoohead," I groaned. Ok, yeah, he was. She just laughed and kept reading her book, not moving from the plastic lawn chair and umbrella she had set up. He didn't blame her for not moving to help him, those chairs were really comfy. She sipped her lemonade.

"Lemonade?"

"Say please."

A moment passed, and I sighed. "Lemonade, please?"

"Lemonade is for people who don't eat the bodily material of a magical creature during a made up ritual in the middle of the desert." She flipped a page in her book.

I sighed again, and, gingerly, moved my not-quite-a-carcass to at least be under the shade of her umbrella. I felt sore all over, like I had just outwrestled and outran a wild beast. But I could feel my energy returning a bit faster in the shade. Katie sighed, and without a glance, poured another glass of lemonade and handed it to me.

"Thanks." It was ice cold, with a hint of mint.

"Shut up, doo doo head." She was smiling, and flipped a page in her book.

I smiled a bit too, and rested, and waited with her while the sun lazily rolled on.