Disclaimer: Standard stuff (I don't own anything, I won't be making profit, any resemblance to previously published content is purely coincidental, JK Rowling is the coolest, etc.). If I make any legal errors regarding copyrighted material, inform me and I will correct them immediately.
Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar
The day after Independence Day, Harry awoke at 9 AM. In fact, he would have slept even later, if not for Gadsden, who, knowing that Harry needed to be awake soon, shook his tail rattle in Harry's face. Once awake, Harry showered and began packing all of his clothing and equipment, for in a few hours, he would be portkeying to Wisconsin for the better part of the remainder of the summer. Finally, checked out of the inn, and then donned the red Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap that he had purchased at a ball game the previous week. He had not fully understood the sport, and it certainly was not as exciting as Quidditch, but it did have a relaxed, old-timey sort of charm; even though the Fightin' Phils had lost, Harry and most of the other spectators had enjoyed themselves. Healer Hopkins had turned the cap into a one-use portkey for him; to activate it, he would have to put on the cap and say (as apparently using sports slogans was common for portkey activation phrases, at least in this city) "Go Phillies!"
Harry ate one last Philadelphia-style meal—a cheesesteak, a soft pretzel, and a bottle of root beer—before making sure he was touching his trunk, Hedwig's cage, and Gadsden (who was coiled loosely around his left arm). Since he now knew how rough a long-distance portkey could be, Harry chose to take this trip sitting down, so that he wouldn't fall down and disturb either of his pets.
"This will probably be uncomfortable," Harry hissed to Gadsden. "Just relax and stay in contact with me, and it will be over quickly."
Harry took one final look around the City of Brotherly Love before straightening the cap and activating the portkey. He felt the characteristic "hook in the guts" sensation, and Gadsden hissed in displeasure as they were magically catapulted off to Keshena, Wisconsin.
Harry, Hedwig, Gadsden, and the trunk landed, nauseated and uncomfortable, but still in the sitting position (so at least not sprawled out on the ground), right in the street in front of a short row of several buildings. These, Harry thought to himself, looked more akin to what he might find in Diagon Alley; rather than the shiny, clean beacons of modern corporate consumer culture he had found many Philadelphia-area stores to be, these were somewhat out of date in style, and were quite in need of maintenance and repair. The building on the corner had a large, white, bear-shaped sign hanging over the door, with the words "Great White Bear Inn" painted in red. It was the inn where Remus had tended bar, and had the same general feel and look as the Leaky Cauldron, the gateway between muggle London and Diagon Alley.
Harry's impression of the inn as the Leaky Cauldron's American counterpart was strengthened as he walked inside. It had the same dingy, dim appearance, the same slightly-magical ambiance, and the same feeling of being a hub of social activity. It being 10 AM, though, there were no patrons drinking at the bar, though there were several people taking in a late breakfast or early lunch at the booths that lined the wall opposite the bar.
Harry approached the "Tom" of the Great White Bear Inn, who looked to be a tall, strong, long-haired, middle-aged man, clearly of Native American descent, in stark contrast to the actual Tom, who was old, hunched, wizened, of pasty-white English descent, and had more fingers than teeth.
"Excuse me, sir," Harry began, getting the man's attention (though he remained beneath the notice of everyone else in the room). "Do you know where I can find Morris Oshkosh? I was told that he could set me up with a room here."
"Sure, kid," the man said, breaking into a toothy grin, his dark eyes flicking up to Harry's scar and widening. Something flashed behind the man's eyes for a split second, before he schooled his countenance and continued. "You're lookin' at him. Morris Oshkosh, owner and sole proprietor of the Great White Bear Inn, at your service. You'll be Harry, then?"
"Yes sir," Harry replied, relief washing over him. He was, after all, quite far removed from any major hub of transportation; had these people sent him packing, he would have been in for a sorry time indeed.
"Well, then, you can call me Morris. Any friend of Remus is a friend of mine," Morris said genially, cocking an eye and tilting his head slightly upon seeing Gadsden coiled around Harry's arm, before gesturing toward the stairs. "Grab your stuff and follow me up to your room. How is that mangy old wolf nowadays?"
"Still a bit shabby, but overall pretty good. He met up with an old friend of his, and they've been traveling together." Harry didn't bring up the who, the where, or the why, but Morris was savvy enough to realize that it was not a topic for discussion at this time.
"Good, good. Here we are," Morris said, stopping on the third floor and opening room 301. It looked quite nice, if a bit small (though still at least twice the size of "his" room at Number 4 Privet Drive) with a fireplace, a four-post bed, a television, an en suite bathroom, and a better view of the small town of Keshena than the Cauldron's rooms had of Diagon Alley. Harry's room in Philadelphia had had a television, but he had only ever watched for the news and weather, not being particularly interested in the dramatic, comedic, or sports programs; he was a bit surprised that there were televisions here, considering the magical nature of the patrons. Morris noticed Harry's surprised look, and reminded him that it was a small tribal town, and magic was at most an open secret here.
"Take the rest of the day to wander around the town," Morris suggested. "The dark moon isn't until Thursday the 7th, so you don't have to start fasting until after breakfast tomorrow morning. I suggest eating large meals until then. We'll talk about your training at dinner tonight. Meet me downstairs at the bar at about six."
Harry nodded his assent, and Morris clapped him on the shoulder before returning downstairs to prepare for the lunch rush. Harry wondered briefly at Morris's reaction to his scar—so far that had been the first double-take anyone in America had done when they had seen it. Putting it out of his mind, Harry unpacked, made sure he had what he had come to call his "gear"—both wands, his shrunken broom, the long dagger with which he had killed the demon, the invisibility cloak, the mirror, and the Marauder's Map (which he carried out of habit, despite its relative lack of utility outside of Hogwarts)—and left Hedwig and Gadsden in the room (both of whom were still queasy and disgruntled from the portkey) before apparating outside to begin exploring the small town.
There really was not much to explore, Harry noted. Keshena was what Americans called a "blink town" (as in "blink and you'll have missed it"), with a population of less than 1,500 people, and contained little more than a few gas stations and convenience stores, a hardware store, a supermarket, and a clothing and outfitter's store. In fact, the most prevalent business seemed to be the Great White Bear Inn. Harry quickly realized that the town was generally impoverished, though many seemed to work in other towns outside the county, especially at a casino (located almost 200 miles away) run by the tribe. To get a better view of the surrounding area, Harry put on his invisibility cloak, climbed onto his Firebolt, and shot up into the air. From a few hundred meters above the ground, Harry could see much of Menominee county, most of which was covered in woods. He could also see the nearby Wolf River, which Remus had apparently romped in as a werewolf. He wasn't planning on going camping again, but it was likely that he would spend some time flying above the woods and river.
After a few hours of flying (Harry may have overdone it a bit in his excitement at being back on a broom again), Harry landed in an alley between buildings and took off his cloak, pocketing his cloak and broom—shrinking the broom had, by this point, become almost a reflex action for Harry; he had determined to never go anywhere without it, and had spent well over an hour practicing shrinking and unshrinking it, until he could perform the charms both silently and wandlessly. He didn't notice the girl eating an ice cream cone across the street, though, who had clearly seen him appear out of thin air. Eyes wide, she watched him walk over to the inn, and then followed him inside.
Harry sat at a booth in the back, and picked up his menu. Most of the other booths were full, though everyone seemed to be finishing up their meals. It was, after all, past 1 PM, so the lunchtime rush was winding down. He had just decided that he would get a burger and fries (he had seen several patrons eating them on the way in, and it looked delicious) when the menu was snatched out of his hands.
"What's up, invisible man?" asked a lilting, feminine voice.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and his wand was suddenly in his hand beneath the table and pointed at the person who had slid into the booth across from him. After a moment, he relaxed slightly, as he took in the details of the girl who was staring at him. She was slender, had dark hair (a dark brunette, not the pitch-black of Harry's messy hair), and regal features, and was peering at him in badly-disguised interest. She was really quite pretty, Harry mused distractedly, before his mind snapped back to the present situation and his grip on his wand tightened again.
"I don't know what you mean," Harry said. "I'm just here to get a burger."
"Oh, I'm sure you are; the burger is quite good. Make sure you ask for the curly fries," she said casually. "But mostly I was talking about how you appeared out of thin air in that alley. Almost like magic."
Harry was about to deflect this statement, but was interrupted by the waitress, who took his order (distracted, Harry forgot to request curly fries) and then turned to the girl and asked "Anything for you, Annie?"
"Nah," the girl-who-was-apparently-named-Annie said cheerfully, her eyes never leaving Harry's face. "I already had ice cream for lunch. I was just talking to my new friend here. And change his fries to curly fries."
As the waitress walked off with a sly grin on her face, Harry again regarded his "new friend." "So, Annie," he began. "What's up?"
Annie, as it turned out, was the town's resident mischief-maker, and a living embodiment of the "it takes a village to raise a child" school of thought. She knew everybody, and everybody knew her. It probably helped that she was also Morris Oshkosh's daughter. Having turned 14 the previous week, she was exactly a month older than Harry, and apparently Morris had planned on teaching her how to achieve the animagus transformation alongside Harry and two older teens from outside the tribe, which she mentioned as soon as she realized that she was speaking to Harry Potter, "some British kid coming to visit for the summer" (which was how Morris had informed her of the summer's general plan).
In fact, after Annie identified herself as Morris's daughter and accepted Harry's explanation for the apparent invisibility ("magic," he had said simply), Harry had not had to deflect much. Taking strategically-timed bites of his burger and curly fries (which Harry semi-voluntarily shared with Annie), Harry succeeded in pushing most of the conversational burden back onto Annie, who either did not notice his ploy or did not care. She supplied a great deal of information in a blitzkrieg of conversation in that inimitable style of a teenage girl, and Harry was hard-pressed to keep up.
According to Annie—with whom Harry had by now realized he would be spending a great deal of time this summer—most of the different tribes followed the same general method of the animagus transformation, but in some cases, that was the extent of their magical ability. Some, though—shamans and medicine-men—were quite powerful, primarily using their magic to channel the elements and subtly influence plants and animals, rather than the magical traditions that had begun in Europe, which mostly used energy to cause direct effects (such as curses, charms, transfigurations). Morris was apparently a medicine-man of some talent, which had turned the inn into the town's de facto clinic, and he was quite qualified to teach the animagus transformation. Annie's own talents were less substantial but arguably extremely useful in the long run; she confided that she could mostly only influence plants. Not flashy, by any means, but once she honed it, she would likely be able to make a great deal of money managing a farm (agriculture, like every other business in America, was run like a Business With a Capital B, and could be quite lucrative).
Soon, though, Harry became comfortable with the girl, and began to contribute more and more to the conversation. It helped that she was very attractive; her hair was sleek and shiny, her eyes glinted with interest and cheer, her smile was wide and toothy (which she had clearly inherited from her father), her complexion was a sort of creamy olive that seemed to be exclusive to Native Americans, and she wore tight-fitting clothes that showed off her distinct curves. Harry had been generally aware of female anatomy in the past, but he had recently begun to notice and appreciate the more distinctly feminine aspects of female bodies, and Annie was head and shoulders above most of the other girls his age at Hogwarts (though admittedly several of the older girls—particularly those on the Quidditch teams, who were quite athletic—also compared favorably in retrospect).
Harry barely realized the passage of time, but suddenly it was time to meet Morris. He didn't even realize this, until Annie's eyes left his, and traveled up above Harry's head, her smile changing from the outgoing grin of companionship to the smile a young woman reserves for her father. Harry, never having grown up around children with healthy relationships with their parents, saw only the genuine nature of the smile on her face, and turned to see Morris walking up from behind him.
"Hey dad!" Annie called out, and Morris grinned his wide, toothy grin in response. Annie moved over, and Morris sat down next to her, placing three menus on the table.
"Good to see you two have already met," he said, a very Dumbledore-like twinkle of mischief and mirth in his eyes. "Am I going to have to have a conversation with Harry here?"
"Da-aa-ad" Annie fake-whined, rolling her eyes before both Oshkoshes broke out in grins. Harry, uncertain of the exact nature of the byplay, but understanding that it was a joke of some sort, managed a smile of his own.
"So," Morris continued once all three had ordered. "Basically, you'll both want to eat big breakfasts and an early lunch tomorrow, because you won't be able to eat anything past noon, or else you'll have to wait another month. You'll fast for the rest of the day, and all day the next day, and at sundown, you'll go through the vision ritual in a wigwam just outside of town. Then you'll see your form—or at least some aspect of your form—in your dream when you sleep out on the ground that night. It's pretty simple, really—you just need to have the strength of will to let out your inner animal."
The rest of the discussion, punctuated by the arrival of three plates of steak and curly fries, was on lighter topics, of a "get-to-know-you" nature. Both Oshkoshes quickly came to like the quiet British boy, and he likewise began to enjoy the company of the two affable Americans. Morris eventually had to go to the kitchen to assist in the dinner rush and the beginning of the late happy hour at the bar, leaving the two teens to chat. After a few more minutes, they adjourned to Harry's room, and Harry introduced her to Gadsden and Hedwig, before letting the owl out to hunt and telling her to bring back something for the snake.
Annie was quite taken with Gadsden, who also approved of her, hissing to Harry that she was quite warm as he coiled around her chest. Internally, Harry groaned—he never thought that he would be seething with jealousy at a snake, but here he was. As it neared 10 PM, Annie decided that she should go back to her room, and gave Harry a hug that seemed to linger a bit longer than it might have for two people who had just met.
"Goodnight, Harry Potter," she breathed into his left ear, before rising up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Perhaps a bit embarrassed at being so forward, she hurried back to her room. Blushing and stammering, Harry didn't manage to get out any words until after the door closed behind her. He reached up his left hand to touch the spot on his cheek that Annie had kissed, and a grin made its way across his face.
"Well, this summer keeps getting better and better all the time."
Author's Note
Serialkeller askes, "Why Gadsden?" Harry chose his owl's name by looking through A History of Magic, and picking one that fit, so we know he is okay with using historical names. The flag he noticed in Independence Hall was known as the "Gadsden flag," after its designer, and depicted a rattlesnake. As for occlumency/legilimency, I have always kind of wished that Rowling had not included such a potent branch of magic in her universe, which basically requires any fanfiction write to devote some time and effort to making sure Harry become proficient in it—there is simply no way for any independent Harry to be successful without some skill in occlumency. Now that it's there, though, I'll have to deal with it, lest Snape and Dumbledore immediately figure out everything that Harry did over the summer. I will do so in a plot-fitting manner, though—there won't be a repeat of Harry's abuse in the guise of occlumency lessons.
Kairan1979, for reference, Gadsden is a Crotalus adamanteus, the largest, heaviest, and arguably most dangerous of the rattlesnakes. Given the wide range of habitats, latitudes and elevations in the Americas in which rattlesnakes—particularly C. adamanteus and C. horridus—are found, I think Gadsden will be fine in the UK; there are snakes native to the region, and if they manage to thrive, Gadsden should as well. And keep in mind that it is a magical animal, and more durable than its non-magical counterparts—even Pigwidgeon, due to his status as a magical owl, doesn't seem to be affected overmuch by the temperature, despite his tiny size. What his powers are beyond this—that is, if he has any—shall remain unknown, until Harry discovers them.
This chapter also marks the beginning of the main part of Harry's summer. I previously stated that romance will not be a significant element of the plot, and I stand by that statement; that said, Harry is a teenaged boy, and—speaking from the experience of someone who once was a teenaged boy—girls will never be far from his mind. Now he has met one who actually seems to like him, which makes sense—to Annie, Harry is probably pretty exotic, and using an entirely different kind of magic than anyone she has ever met, he probably seems very powerful, too. Both Harry and Annie know, though, that Harry will return to Britain at the end of August, so any "romance" between them will be confined to a short, intense summer fling—hence her forward advance so soon after meeting him. Morris may even turn out to be a fairly enlightened parent, and approve of this sort of "summer loving"—he knows Harry won't be here to stay, and it would be a good "starter" relationship for his daughter that won't have the possible consequence of confining her to the reservation for the long term, or cause any long-term small-town drama. We shall see!
Finally, Harry's scar and Gadsden. Morris is the first person in America to have any significant reaction to Harry's scar, and the reason for that is steeped in tribal magical lore, which I am basing largely (with a liberal helping of artistic license) on tidbits of information on Native American history and cultural traditions. His surprise upon seeing Gadsden is for the same reason.