Disclaimer: People, I am proud to announce- What? No, I'm sure that's not some spam email. It is? Darn it. Still don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter Eleven
The other boys shuffled into the cabin, soaking wet and laughing about a canoe tipping over. When they saw Harry, they shared a look with Chase, smiled at Harry, asked if he were alright, and walked to their own bunks to find a dry change of clothes.
Chase smiled at the look Harry shot him. "What?" he asked. "We didn't know what your form did to your subconscious, although we figured it had something to do with your panic attack earlier. We didn't want to possibly have you go back to the med-tent so soon."
One of the other boys, Harry didn't see who, snorted. "Yeah. We want to be able to practice, too."
Harry looked at Chase in confusion.
"Well… you see… Sam decided that if we could, we would wait for our first training session, so you could join. We were supposed to go first, but we switched with one of the girls' cabins."
Harry felt like a stinging hex hit his chest. He kept others from getting to practice, and why? Because he couldn't handle people crowding around him? How pathetic was he?
Chase didn't let Harry wallow in self-pity for long. "Honestly, this just means we get first pick at the other activities we can do. Everyone wanted to be first to try out their new forms, and those who didn't get to I think are sulking. All the ones who get to practice will have their adrenaline pumping, and they will probably do all the fun stuff to get rid of the energy. So, we get best choice of activities and we still get to practice!" His smile seemed strained, similar in a way to the other boys' stances, but there was no hostility from any of them. Even the one who made the comment seemed to have done so more in jest and frustration at his lot in life than in negativity towards Harry himself.
Harry smiled apologetically at the others, and that was the end of that.
He had woken up just in time, in fact, because they were about to go to the practice fields.
…
The various practice fields were divided amongst the various animal types. Canines were separate from felines, who were separate from fowls, who were separate from aquatic creatures, who all were separate from "prey." Urban legends claim that one time a cat spiritualist got a little too into her instincts and chased a rat around the camp that people didn't realize was a spiritualist at the time. None of the stories end well for the rat.
Each separate clearing was divided roughly in half. The magical and nonmagical creatures were split incase of any magical backlash from the spiritualists not in control of their new magic.
Veterinarians walked through the various groups, documenting each spiritualist and their creature both for governmental documents and personal ones. The Americans claimed that if one was stuck in their form, there needed to be a way to keep them from being, say, euthanized in the pound. Chase said it was purely for taxation purposes. The vets doubled as instructors for those having issues.
When Harry spoke to the young woman vet, and she learned he was called a hellhound, she just mentioned that they would need to update that file to include what they looked like. All they had down was what was said in mythology and various urban legends. She said it would be helpful if he provided more detailed information either at a local magical animal clinic or if he would write his own book or article to be published. It would give any other hellhound spiritualists a chance to learn about their form, hopefully without the panic attack he dealt with earlier that morning. (Was it just that morning?) It would not be required, but it would be greatly appreciated. When Harry turned to his more intimidating form, she just whistled appreciatively, then continued with her job.
Unlike all the other canids surrounding him, Harry had full control of both his form and his transformations. He spent his time playing with some of the other larger canines that were trying to become more comfortable in their forms. The one he had the most fun with he learned was called an "Akhlut." He looked like a common wolf, but with sleek, thick fur and webbed paws that seemed perfect for swimming in icy waters. His coloration was a black overcoat with a white underbelly and various white and grey spots along his flank. His muzzle was slightly wider than the average wolf, and his limbs far thicker than anything not bred by humans.
The other boy said that the Akhlut was an Inuit magical creature. It could shift forms between an orca, a wolf, and some hybrid of the two. He could only manage his wolf form of the creature, which he claimed meant that when he gained his nonmagical form, it would most likely be an orca. (He actually was Inuit, and his tribe was known for transforming into the Akhlut, so he spoke from experience.)
While in most Inuit tribes the Akhlut was seen as a ferocious monster that hunts humans, the reality was that Akhluts were overly playful, and did not understand their own strength, accidentally killing many people they met. They preferred seafood and herbivores, which the boy joked meant vegans needed to watch out.
As it turns out, young hellhounds could match young Akhluts in both energy and strength.
Harry and the Akhlut (to be clear, Harry couldn't pronounce the boy's name, so the boy told him to call him the Akhlut spiritualist – he was proud to be so) romped around, nipping and chasing and wrestling. No other canine in the clearing was nearly big enough or strong enough to roughhouse with them, so they kept to the edges to stop from stepping on another small animal. (Why did that chihuahua girl keep showing up? It's not like they meant to squish her. And really, her bug eyes needed to be pushed back into her head.)
Once their practice time was up, the budding spiritualists were instructed to wash up and keep out of the way of the next batch of practitioners. The Akhlut made sure to give Harry his 'mirror ID.' (As it turns out, American magicians used mirrors as some form of phone to communicate. Harry noted that he should probably ask Chase for more information.)
Harry was the last of his cabinmates to trickle into the cabin. The others looked exhausted from the magical depletion of such a strenuous activity. While it took almost no effort for an experienced spiritualist to change forms, rookies had to deal with potential magical exhaustion until their magic was used to the strain of changing the nature of the body and/or the magic itself. Harry had been lucky. Death and his three uncles had taught him how to better conserve energy for the transformation as the magical nature of the hellhound form did not bode well with magical exhaustion. Unfortunately, he could not teach the others because it used the hellhound's natural drawing in of magical energies in both the earth and shadows and whatever element they are associated with. In other words, only hellhound spiritualists could use this technique.
It was an almost unanimous unspoken agreement that the boys would wash up and take a nap before dinner that night. However, some of the boys could not even manage to do that, passing out onto their beds in their sweaty gear. These also happened to be the most rancid of the lot, which did not bode well for the girls that typically sat next to them at dinner time.
After Harry had his shower, he found his magic and adrenaline buzzing in his veins. He did not change back and forth often, which was the largest part of the magical depletion of the transformation, nor did he use any of his magical abilities while he practiced. In other words, his magic was bored and would not allow for any naps.
He wandered into the forest once more, pulled by some instinct that made his memory of the nightmare incident at the beginning of camp fuzzy in his head. His magic chattered away, both to him and his hellhound self. Harry was still not ready to merge his consciousness completely with his wilder counterpart's, no matter how comfortable the two were with each other.
Harry passed by the practice fields, listening to the general hubbub and racket of several animals together in a small space.
He wandered farther and farther into the forest until he found a quietly babbling brook. There, he found a large, flat boulder to lay down upon. It was warmed by the sun, pleasant to his lightly aching muscles (Akhluts pack a punch). He rested there, letting his magic dart around the area. It played with the leaves, trying to make them whistle enough to annoy Harry. It then rushed into the brook, making gullies and ripples as it directed the water in various ways opposite of normal. Anything it could play with, it did, until it met something distinctly alive that was neither plant nor one of the various rodents and birds surrounding the area.
Harry jolted up, his magic warning him that something new was there. In front of him, across the stream, was the nightmare from before. It stood calmly – regally, almost. Its magic pushed against his own, nudging an idea that his magic went through with before translating to Harry.
Where Harry once was stood a hellhound. Smaller than the fire horse, but no less intimidating.
The horse bobbed its head. Greetings, young one, a new voice reverberated in the back of Harry's head. I am the leader of my herd.
Another, squeakier voice joined in. And I am the chosen representative of The Inferno. Hi! The nightmare snorted. A small head popped into view between the nightmare's ears. It had small feathers surrounding the scaled, serpentine head. It reminded Harry almost of the rattle snakes that the Higgindobbins warned him of. Mist, not smoke, puffed from its nostrils.
Harry nodded his head back, not sure how to proceed.
We have a proposition for you, young chosen of Death.
Harry's magic nudged an inquiry at the horse.
We are in need of a new home, a more secure home. We had to leave our original one. A flood of epic proportions drove in too many aquatic creatures into the area, and it does not look as if it will dry any time soon. The nightmare's voice reverberated.
Water is bad! The dragon helpfully replied. Stops our fires! Too cold! Too wet! Bleh! It shook its head funnily.
We would like to ask of you your deathly home. We are willing to negotiate and give up some of our amenities. The nightmare continued as if not interrupted.
The hellhound tilted his head.
The nightmares would be willing to allow you to use us as your steeds. We can pull a carriage or be used as war horses. We can travel in much the same way you can, but it will conserve your strength. We do not ask for much; just give us a plot of land with some form of vegetation, and we will forever be in your debt.
Harry turned to the little feathered lizard.
I got nothing. It gave the impression of shrugging its shoulders. Harry couldn't help but snort.
He asked his magic if it could translate, to a feeling of indignation permeating through him.
Even if I could, I do not know how. I am sorry.
The horse shook his head. We doubted so, but we believe you will go to the Realm Between soon. You have much to learn in so little a time. Death will be anxious and hasty. We only ask that you consider, and if possible, ask your mentor for help.
Okay, then. I will think on this more later. I will have an answer before I leave this camp. His magic said. Harry was about to accept, but his magic continued against his will. It spoke only to him, We can't make promises we can't keep. Wait. Let's see what Death and grandfather and uncles have to say.
The horse nodded its head, making the snaky one above it bob in a delay. Very well. We shall meet you here when you are ready.
They turned back into the forest, disappearing back into the forest from whence they came.
Harry transformed back. He laid in the sun for a while longer, contemplating how quickly his life had gotten out of hand, with "helpful" comments from both his canine half and his magic.
With a groan from not wanting to get up from his comfy rock but knowing he had to go back to camp, Harry heaved himself up and started wandering back the way he came.
You know, his magic muttered sleepily, it's not so bad. We got so much this summer. Can we really complain about where it led us? We're Harry Potter. We're supposed to get into crazy stuff. I like this crazy, though. So much better than Voldemort crazy.
Harry couldn't help but agree.
Chapter is finished!
I keep telling myself that the next chapter Harry will gain his next transformation. Oh, well. Maybe next chapter…
yodaslayer: My idea was that whether or not you have a magical form at all was dependent upon if your magic was strong enough, flexible enough, or willing to do so. Whichever form appears first is based on the person's magic's affinity for the transformation, laziness, or if it wants to start or end with a bang. Pretty much, capability is based on skill. Priority depends on magic. Hope that makes sense.
Guest: I don't know if I will bring Sirius into the American spiritualasis or not. I could be lazy and just say that Azkaban stops his magic from performing that function or even that because he learned the European way he can't learn the American way. Beats me. Nico from Percy Jackson actually inspired the shadow travel, but I am not planning on making this a crossover with anything any time soon (if ever).
To all the positive reviewers: Thanks so much! You people are so nice!
Published: 10/21/18
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