Disclaimer: You still think I'm trying to claim this as mine? Really?

Chapter Fourteen

It was finally the time to leave the campgrounds. Kids were scattered around, bags in hand or sitting by their feet. Mirror IDs were exchanged, and the quiet roar of conversation buzzed through the air as newly made friends said their goodbyes.

Harry stood beside Chase, both talking with the Akhlut spiritualist. The two American boys had already traded mirror IDs and were showing Harry how they worked.

"There's multiple kinds," Chase was explaining, "and different brands have different phrases to answer. It all depends on preference."

"Yeah," the Akhlut piped up. "Mine goes around my neck like this, so I don't have to worry about burying it in the snow back home. Watches are impractical if you're always going up to your elbows in work."

"Mine's in my wrist watch," Chase continued. "It's not as big, but it's more inconspicuous. See, you open it like this, it's a normal watch." He flipped the top bottom up (like most watches). It had silver on black numbers, and a digital clock in the center under the clock's hands. "But if I flip it like this," he closed the top, then flipped the cap top down, "I get my contact mirror." The simple mirror – or mirrors, as the case was – covered the watch-face portion and the back of the cap. "There's multiple features, the best of which is probably this." Chase grabbed the knob on the side of the watch that normally moved the watch hands and turned it. The mirror on the watch face lifted from its placement in the watch, hovered, then grew in size. Chase kept turning the knob until the end, upon which the mirror was roughly the size of a hand, hovering over Chase's wrist. "Makes face-time so much easier." He pressed the knob in, and the mirror jumped back into the watch face, shrinking as it went.

"There's always separate instruction manuals," Akhlut said. "The different brands have such different features, people normally choose one and stick with it. There's a limited number of enchantments they can have, so the companies really don't compete with each other when it comes to the quality of features."

"Honestly, my sister probably knows more about the different options than I do," Chase shrugged. "I just care if it makes calls. She and her friends all obsess over the different features."

The Akhlut looked up, "Oh, here's my ride. See you guys later." He stepped through the portal that had just opened in front of him. With a wave, the portal closed behind him.

Chase looked over at Harry, "Mom should be sending a portal through soon."

Harry hummed. "You think I could just Shadow Travel?"

Chase thought for a second. "Maybe. It's probably safer to try now when we can help you rather than if you need it in an emergency or you're back in Europe. Ooo… Make sure to scare Sherry! That'd be awesome! She's always so calm!"

Harry laughed. "Okay, then I'll follow after you."

Chase left through a portal soon after, smiling cheekily at his family on the other side. He let the portal close to reprimands from his parents.

Harry backed into a shadow, letting its chill consume him. He then let warmth once more cover his body, in a new space. As his ears emerged, he heard gasps, both of surprise and of Chase trying to regain his breath.

Harry opened his eyes to the Higgindobbins blinking at him, Sherry having jumped behind older brother Brandon in an effort to get away.

"Priceless!" Chase finally heaved out.

"Chase Miles Higgindobbins! You could have warned us!" Mrs. Higgindobbins raged. Mr. Higgindobbins burst into laughter, followed closely by Brandon. The girls glared at them all.

"Not funny," Mandy muttered.

Harry grinned sheepishly. He thought it was funny, but the girls scared him. It didn't help that his magic was screaming, Danger! Danger! Do not engage! I repeat! Do not engage!

Mrs. Higgindobbins smiled at Harry. "I'm sure there's a story behind that, but I think your family has already missed you for a week. You should get going. Got all you brought?"

Harry nodded nervously. When offered the chance to come, Harry had to assure Mrs. Higgindobbins the Dursleys would be fine with him leaving for a week. It wasn't suspicious to leave his family for less than twenty-four hours. It was summer; many families let their children run around without supervision when they were old enough. An entire week? Mrs. Higgindobbins would've become suspicious if Harry hadn't gotten permission. (Not to mention, it was illegal for her to sign Harry up without guardian consent.)

Harry forged a letter from the Dursleys. He had learned his lesson this past year. And when Hogwarts accepted a permission slip signed by Sirius Black, "murderer" of his parents, Harry realized they just wanted a signature. No one would look too closely at what the signature looked like.

It was fine. He left them a letter if they for some reason needed him.

Mandy smiled kindly at Harry. "I'll take you. I've got my license; no need to risk the magical travel with no-majes."

With quick goodbyes from the Higgindobbins at their backs, along with suspicious snickers, Harry and Mandy got into Mandy's old beater car. Harry figured it was held together by magic, it was so – ahem – run-down. Harry normally either rode the bus or in Brandon's nicer car when he traveled with or from the Higgindobbins; he didn't know what to expect from Mandy's driving abilities. The car would probably be better once they got in.

Harry was wrong. The entire ride down the shuddering car threatened to break down. Mandy's driving skills were subpar, at best. Harry suspected the car wasn't originally a beater, but with Mandy's driving abilities, well, best try to get a ride from Brandon next time.

Mandy cursed at the other drivers on the road. One hand was perpetually always raised in a fist, or another gesture Harry wouldn't repeat, at the other people on the road. Music crackled from the old radio. Harry hung on for dear life.

Good times. Good times. And Harry thought Quidditch matches could get dangerous.

Harry was dropped off with little fanfare. He inspected his hotel room, finding nothing disturbed. He had left a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door, so the room was just as messy as when he left. Even his letter to the Dursleys was left alone exactly where he left it.

Harry hummed in boredom. He wouldn't go out and do anything: He didn't have too much American muggle cash, and he wanted to avoid the magical sector until he could have his guides (the Higgindobbins) saving him from social faux pas. He had learned so much from them, yet he seemed to still insult people without meaning to. He wasn't hungry; the camp gave them breakfast before sending them off. Harry hummed noncommittally. Anything he could think of sounded so boring. His magic and forms were no help. The two pups slept soundly in his mind, and his magic felt as lifeless as he himself did.

Harry finally settled on watching the telly. None of the provided programs provided any entertainment to the bored young man, but he stared listlessly at it for the next several hours, until supper. If anyone asked what he had watched, Harry could honestly not recall.

Harry groaned to his feet, thinking he'd grab a bite to eat at the mall. He had some bucks on him, and he still hadn't tried all the cuisine offered. He shuffled over to his bags, grabbing his new wallet. Harry counted out what he had, finally determining that he wouldn't need to stop by the ATM.

Harry stepped out of the room, only to bump into something squishy. He jumped away and turned to see Uncle Vernon turning puce in front of him.

"Boy," Vernon tried to say neutrally.

"Uncle Vernon," Harry replied.

Harry quickly shuffled around his "family," who seemed to be preparing to go out for dinner, as well. Harry could see American fast food and portion sizes made Dudley grow by a much larger percentage than he ever had before in the same amount of time. Now he had four chins, and Harry could honestly say that if he cared, he would be worried if Dudley would survive to adulthood. Dudley had a lollipop stick sticking out of his mouth. His Aunt Petunia was dressed to impress with a gaudy flowery summer dress and a corsage on her head. Harry decided not to ask. Uncle Vernon stood in his second-best suite, probably because he didn't want to seem like he had only the one to whoever they were eating with.

Harry was quick to leave before his uncle gave him a lecture over not being seen for the month. He didn't want the Dursleys to ask about the clothes that were newer and nicer than anything they'd seen him in fitted on his body.

Harry walked over to the mall, looking at all the sights. He had seen them every time he came, but there was always something new to see. He saw a little girl sniffling on the sidewalk ahead. He looked around for her mother, but no one seemed to be with the girl. Many pedestrians stepped around her, some noticing her but not wanting to deal with it for whatever reason, and others not even noticing her.

Harry walked over to her and knelt beside her. "Hello," he smiled.

"Hi," she sniffled back. "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"Okay," Harry shrugged, but he honestly didn't know what to say or do. He couldn't leave her here, but she needed to find her guardians. He looked around. "Wouldn't you at least like to sit down on something more comfortable than the ground? That bench over there sure looks comfy."

She sniffed again, then nodded, rubbing her eyes cutely. She pushed herself up on her feet and shuffled over to the bench. When Harry tried to sit on the other side of the bench, she shied away. Harry didn't feel comfortable standing and staring at her. He felt a shift in the back of his mind. Oh, that's what he would do.

Harry ducked into an alleyway, looking around for anyone to see him and watching the little girl cautiously. This could either go really well or really horribly. He just hoped she liked dogs.

A Dogo Argentino trotted out of the alleyway, panting happily. Dogo-Harry stepped around the bench to face the little girl. Her head was in her hands, her tears having begun anew. Harry huffed and whined at her. Blue eyes cautiously peeked from between her fingers. "Doggy?" she whispered.

Dogo-Harry's tail wagged hard enough to hit his sides. He huffed softly at her. She tentatively reached out to pet him. He made no sudden movements that could frighten her. Her fingers brushed along his head. She giggled. "Doggy!"

Harry panted happily, then nudged her hand before jumping onto the bench beside her, laying his head on her lap and wagging all the while.

"Silly doggy!" the girl exclaimed. Harry could physically smell the difference on her. He liked happy-little-girl smell, he decided, and he really disliked sad-little-girl smell.

They sat there for what must've been over an hour, the girl happily playing with his ears and jowls. He playfully nipped at her, making sure to never actually bite her. Any time she seemed to focus back on her situation, Harry would nudge her with his head, or place his paw on her lap, or do something cutesy. Harry decided he enjoyed making the little girl smile. His now outer puppy loved keeping this little girl happy.

It was getting dark when a figure seemed to focus in on the little girl all by herself. Harry knew they were being watched for quite a while, he just hoped it was a good-doer doing the watching. Harry also knew he wasn't that lucky.

The man didn't seem all that menacing. His face and hair were clean. His clothes, while casual, looked comfortable and practical. His posture reflected nothing other than a concerned adult. Harry didn't like him instantly.

"Hello, sweetie," the man smiled at her.

"Hello," she said back shyly.

"Where's your mama? You're not lost, are you?"

"I-I can't talk to strangers."

"I'm not a stranger. My name's John. See, now come with me and let's find your mom. I saw her not too long ago; I bet we could catch up to her if we leave right now."

"You know where Mommy is?"

"Of course. C'mon." The man reached for the little girl's arm. Dogo-Harry growled and snapped at the offending limb.

"Doggy?" the girl asked. Harry brushed along her side, as if reassuring her he knew what he was doing. He sat up, slightly shifting so his paws rested on her opposite side, his body shielding her from the man.

The man must've missed how large Harry was. His size dwarfed the little girl. His head must've taken up the same amount of space as her entire torso. And this big puppy did not like something threatening his new charge. His hackles raised as he bared his teeth at the man. The man snarled and went to drag the girl out from under Harry. Harry snarled and grabbed the man's arm, latching on and shaking violently. The man was little more than a toy under Harry's surprising strength.

The man finally disengaged, if only because Harry refused to be dragged from his self-appointed charge. The man snarled, and Harry snarled right back. He started barking, hoping to get someone's attention who would get in contact with the police. The man glanced around, realizing that too much attention was on him. He snarled at Harry once more, then darted away into the crowd. Harry gave one last warning bark before turning his attention to the little girl.

"Doggy? That was scary," she practically whispered. Harry whimpered back at her in agreement, then darted forward to start licking at her face. She squealed and pushed back at his face. "Bad doggy! Bad doggy! No! Stop!" She squealed in laughter again.

Harry finally calmed back down, and settled himself back where he had been before, although maybe slightly more on her than he was originally. She might've huffed out something about "Heavy doggy," but that might've been his imagination.

Even with so much attention on the girl, Harry still stayed aware of his surroundings. He noticed one woman on her phone, and he caught enough of the conversation to know she called the police.

Settled back in a relaxed state, it didn't take too long for a black-and-white car to roll up in front of the pair. A police man stepped out and walked over first to the woman who called to hear the situation from her, then walked over to the pair. He sat on his heels, seeming smaller than the girl or Harry on their seats.

"Hello, sweetie," the police man smiled. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Abby."

"Well, Abby, can you tell me your last name?" The man was kind. While Harry was still tense from the last confrontation, he knew he could trust him. Harry would watch him, though, just to be safe.

"Johnson."

"And where's your mom, Abby?" He took notes diligently on a pad of paper.

"I don't know!" the girl suddenly wailed. Harry was quick to quiet her with whimpers and soft woofs, nudging into her stomach with his nose. She giggled at his impromptu tickles.

"Well, Abby, I'll make sure to find your mommy, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

The man smiled kindly, then went back to his car to phone someone, but not before patting at Harry's head.

Not even a minute later, the man returned, saying, "Someone's looking for your mom, now, Abby." He looked down at Harry. "I see you've got yourself a protector. What's his name?"

Abby shrugged. "I dunno. He just showed up."

The man's countenance didn't change, but Harry could smell the surprise.

"Really? Then he must be a very good dog."

Abby nodded resolutely. "He pro-proke-ek-ed me."

The police man stayed with them for a little while longer, until Abby's mother came in another cop car.

"Abby!" the woman cried. "Don't ever scare me like that again! What happened?" Harry shuffled off the girl before her inconsolable mother could potentially glomp him on accident. Harry doubted she even noticed him as she pulled her daughter into her arms, muttering and crying in utter relief.

Harry caught the stray end of the cops' conversation, "Yeah, now we just gotta catch that man. Doubt we'll be able to, though. No one got a good look at him."

Harry sniffed around him. Yep, he still smelled the odor of utter wrongness the man gave off. Harry shuffled off the bench, stretching out the kinks in his legs with a great rendition of upward dog. He then trotted up to the two police officers, grabbing the original's pant leg. Harry tugged, looked up at the man, darted down the way the perpetrator went, then came back. He had to repeat a couple of times, but finally the man willingly followed, asking his associate to phone for help.

Harry kept his head down as he followed the scent trail, the police man at his heels. Harry finally reached the entrance to an apartment complex, only to be stopped at the door by the doorman.

"I'm sorry, sir, no pets allowed."

"We're on a trail here, kiddo. Let the dog do his job."

"Yessir," the man hastily shuffled away, holding the door open for the two. Harry jumped inside, his senses going crazy at the closeness of the man.

They made it into the elevator, then had to stop on each floor so Harry could sniff for the man. It wasn't until the fourteenth floor (or thirteen, as the case was, there was no thirteen button) Harry smelt the man again. He barked, then led the cop down the hall to about halfway. The man pulled out his cell phone and called for backup, petting Harry behind his ears in such a way that calmed the dog until the help arrived.

Harry stayed back as they went through the necessary procedures. When the police busted through the doors, all was silent. They shuffled inside, guns at the ready. Harry jumped at the sound of gunshots firing, followed by a short shuffle and minor cursing. He ducked his head in and saw the suspect handcuffed, the police leading him towards the door and reading him his rights. Bullet holes dotted the carpet, but it didn't seem that anyone was hit.

The police officer he led came up to him, petting him on his head once more. "Good boy," the officer praised.

Harry was led back to the little girl, where she gave him a cheerful goodbye and left with her mother. The officer brought Harry to his car, urging him to hop in. Harry wasn't too graceful, but he stuck to landing. He was brought to the police station while the officer said something about looking for his owner. He laid down in the man's office, not bothering with the water left out for him.

Officers shuffled in, many females and a few males coming in to pet him. Dogo-Harry liked the praise. Human-Harry was glad he could escape this when he figured out how to get out of this.

One of the visiting officers talked jovially with the original. It wasn't until Harry heard something about him that he started paying attention. "Good thing we're not in England!" the man offhandedly remarked. "I think he's illegal over there."

"What? No way."

"I'm not kidding you, man. I know I heard most dog breeds that look like him aren't supposed to be kept over there."

"I don't believe you."

"Look it up, man. I guarantee it."

Typing was heard at the computer. "Well, would you look at that? 'Dangerous Dog Act of 1991.' Outlaws the ownership, breeding, and sale of Pit Bull Terriers, Japanese Tosas, Dogo Argentinos, and Fila Brasileiros. Huh. Well, I guess he could be considered dangerous, but only to those who threaten little girls. Poor dogs. Seems kinda strict to me."

Harry stopped listening. He was illegal? In his own home country? Oh, the irony!

Finally, a middle-aged man appeared at the door, escorted by one of the secretaries. "Sir? This man came for his dog."

"Ah, yes! You have his paperwork?"

After much legal talk and specifics about how the man shouldn't let Harry get out again, the man took Harry from the officer's hands. Harry would've freaked out, if it weren't for his magic. He's magic, it whispered. Must be one of those people they talked about at camp. You know? The ones that make sure you're not stuck in the pound?

They stopped at a quiet spot nearby out of the way of any cameras. "Okay, Mr. Potter," the man turned professional. "You may change back now."

Harry shifted back nervously. He didn't know what to expect.

"You know, it's amazing that you can get into such deep crap before it's even twenty-four hours, you know that?"

Harry bowed his head.

"Good job, kid," the man continued. "You need to come with me. We have a little more we need to discuss." The man opened a portal, gesturing for Harry to go through, first.

They reappeared in what Harry assumed to be the man's own office. "Am I in trouble, sir?" he finally broke.

The man studied him. "No, not yet, anyway." Harry's shoulders slumped. "But we do have much to discuss. Have a seat."

Harry shuffled into one of the seats, the man sitting on the other side of the desk. He shuffled some paperwork from a folder.

"So, Harry Potter. Born July thirty-first, 1980 to parents Lily and James. English magical and no-maj citizen. 'Boy-Who-Lived.' Defeater of Voldemort. Currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and on vacation with your relatives, the Dursleys. Impressive resume, I gotta say, kid." He placed his stack of papers back down on the desktop. "Let's start with that first, the Dursleys. What do you think of them?" He folded his hands under his chin.

Harry sweated. This was a trick question, right? "Sir?"

"Well, we noticed you haven't interacted with them at all since you got here, besides earlier today. You even forged a letter from them for permission to go study in spiritualasis, no?" He looked at Harry. "Mr. Potter, do you know who I am?"

Harry shook his head.

"My name is Agent Robinson, Mr. Potter. I work for the AMSA. That's the American Magic Secret Agency. We've been keeping track of you, Mr. Potter, as we do all visitors from that sector of the world."

Harry inconspicuously rubbed his sweaty palms across his jeans.

"Are you happy there, Mr. Potter?" The agent rolled his eyes at Harry's nervous look. "Oh, relax. We can't do anything, yet. We can't charge them for neglect when you are obviously doing fine." He gestured towards Harry's clothes. "And you don't seem to have come to any harm. But you can file a complaint with us, and we can go from there." The man smiled.

Harry was amazed. He'd never had any adult express concern over the way the Dursleys treated Harry. "I don't particularly like them," Harry said frankly, "but there's no need to go to such measures! I'm fine, really!"

"Very well," business mode was turned back on. "Next on the agenda. Do you plan to return to Europe?" Harry nodded cautiously. "Then you should learn that there are specific enchantments on American soil. You cannot – as in physically cannot – tell any of our secrets to any outsiders not in the know, or in the hearing range of those not in the know. You also may not perform any magic that is considered under American magic in such a way others in Europe may know about, including your magical spirit form. There are some exceptions, but we generally go by the idea that if Mother Magic lets you talk, we'll let you talk. You can look up all the how's and why's and specifics later. Capisce?"

Harry nodded.

"I'd suggest for your own safety you don't even mention you met anyone magical in America, Mr. Potter." Harry looked at him confusedly. "With the current political climate, we cannot guarantee your safety, Mr. Potter. They may lock you up for treason or try to learn our secrets. There's a chance they won't do anything, but it's dangerous to even have any knowledge of magical America. You are friends with the… Weasleys, correct? And the paternal factor is employed by your government? He will be required by law to tell anything you say to the magical authorities over there."

Harry nodded hesitantly. The man's eyes softened. "I know this is difficult, Mr. Potter, we are just concerned with both your safety and ours. It may be paranoia on our part, but our histories and current political climate suggest otherwise."

Harry nodded again. "I understand, sir."

"Very good. Very good. Next item of discussion, your backstory. Unless you need help, we will let you decide what to tell your friends of your experience when you get back. If I may, Mr. Potter, I would suggest as close to the truth as possible. Makes things a little easier to keep in line," he winked.

"And finally," the man stretched in his chair, "the God-awful paperwork. Just need a brief statement and some basic information, Harry."

Harry finished giving his information to the agent and was portaled to the mall for his dinner. Already eight, many of the shops were either closed or mostly empty. Harry went to get some Southern-styled food.

He decided they needed pictures with their menus. He was horrified to hear of 'biscuits and gravy' and 'grits' and 'mud pie' and 'frog legs.' (Last one may be the actual thing, but it still sounded disgusting!) Harry enjoyed his fried chicken dish with cornbread, fried okra, beans, and gravy with apple pie for dessert. He knew he was making it that much harder for himself to return to Hogwarts, where there wasn't as many different choices for the meals. After the variety he was experiencing here, Harry was without any doubt he'd get bored of the cuisine while in Hogwarts.

Harry finally shuffled into bed with a full stomach and content smile. It was a good day, he decided. His magic chimed in. Nothing like helping someone, is there?

No, there's really not.

Just make sure to keep yourself safe when we get back to the UK, Harry. Okay? No more basilisks or dementors, his magic worried.

Not my fault, and you know it, Harry sleepily grumbled back. But I agree. Nothing dangerous this year.

Good. Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight. And Harry, well, Harry passed out.

Hi guys. *Waves shyly.* Um, I'm sorry. I have several good excus-explanations! Life, and reading things outside the fandom, and and and. Yeah, nothing that will hold in a court of law. My bad?

I have no clue if any of the legal stuff that happened would play out like it did, but I tried to keep it simple and plausible. Also, have you noticed that when I have a minor character, my default is common names? Guess I just don't want to put in the effort. *shrugs*

bob19h: I think the idea is good, and it kind of lines up with the idea I have brewing, but not exactly. Also, I (think) I said Harry's magic was adaptive, which means it knows how to deal with a wand. Maybe not comfortably, but it can get the job done. (And no idea is a bad idea, just usable, not usable, planned, and goes against plans.) And here's the next chapter.

dreaddragonknight: Yeah, I'm bad about overdoing the details. Harry's got adaptive magic. (I think that's what I called it. Not gonna look it up right now.) His magic can do things outside the typical. And I've got plans for Neville, just you wait. Mwahahaha!

TheAlphaJade: Yeah, that's just my tendency to focus on details shining through… Not planned at all. But glad you like it!

hi: Here you go.

mizzrazz: Harry learned more concepts in America, but he learned more magic at Hogwarts. Think philosophy versus chemistry. You don't need too much of philosophy to make yourself better, but chemistry requires an in-depth knowledge way beyond the basics to make an impact. (Or at least, that was the plan…) Yep! Family vibes soaking through! I just felt Harry was almost always an outsider, myself.

Guest: Nope, Harry will go back, and I don't think the Higgindobbins will do anything to the Dursleys. Then again, this story is writing itself more than I'm planning it!

setokayba2n: *awkwardly smiles with two thumbs up because author is awkward*

VizeerLord: Ideas for names that are really dumb, so suggestions are welcome! Planning on two. I haven't decided how I want to write Dumbledore, yet (bashing or just too old to do half the things we as fans expect of him), which changes how I write about the Blood Wards. I'd suspect Dumbledore's doing whatever he does during summer every year. Harry did write Ron a letter, and he can't do anything until they get back, anyway. Let's go with Harry's sleeping near the Dursleys, and that works for now…? No planned Dobby until he returns to England. Here's the next chapter!

Nocte Furorem: Yeah, I agree. Then again, I like most dog breeds.

And to all those who just complimented me in the reviews, my reply to you all is just a simple 'thank you!'

Published: 3/14/19

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