AN: And now for something different ;)

Chapter Eleven:

"Our souls will join again the wild."

The young man sat in the large, round traditional Native American tipi with the old Medicine Man sitting across from him. The fire crackled between them sending its mystical smoke spiraling up to the hole at the peak of the conical tent. The young man was shirtless, the skin of his torso had a slightly tan/red tinge to it, but not as dark as the old man sitting across the fire from him. He was also festooned with different tattoos of different tribal origins from all manner of cultures from around the world. The old man breathed deeply, the smoke from the fire filling his nostrils.

"Welcome, young one," he said, his accent deep and low, like the sound of an avalanche high up in the Rocky Mountains that overlooked their campsite, "do you know why you are here today?"

"I am to converse with my Animal Guide, Grandfather," the young man replied. His accent was different, more English, however it did have a hint of the rich Native American tones of his grandfather. "I am here to take the Vision Quest."

"You assume correctly, young one." The old man looked at him with eyes as old as the rock, "Are you prepared for what awaits you in the Spirit World?"

The young man gazed through the dancing flames at his grandfather. Both medicine man and chief of his tribe, Red-Wolf-Runs-With-Burning-Grace was a truly imposing figure. His skin both the colour and texture of leather, his long dark hair, streaked with gray and woven with beads and feathers, hung down over his shoulders. He was one of the few who still wore the full traditional dress of their people, especially the long feathered headdress, but that was only really for public ceremonies. Around his neck was a thin leather cord, decorated with beads of turquoise, red quartz and feathers.

"I am ready," the young man said with a deep breath of contemplation.

"Then we shall begin," Chief Red-Wolf reached into his medicine bag and took out a handful of dust, "You have traveled the world, seen many things, yet you have not yet truly embraced your heritage. Today you will meet the guide that will take you on the greatest journey of all. The journey into your own soul."

He threw the dust onto the flames of the fire and immediately they danced higher, turning a brilliant shade of crimson.

"Now you must throw something of yours into the fire as a gift for the spirits of our ancestors."

The young man took from his pocket a strip of cloth striped with horizontal bands of bronze and blue, a Hogwarts Ravenclaw school tie. He cast it into the fire, which instantly changed from crimson to bright blue.

"Good," Red-Wolf said, "Now close your eyes, focus on your breathing motions. Picture yourself walking through a forest. It is peaceful there. Eventually you will come to a clearing with a pool of calm water. Gaze into the water."

The young man got down on his knees and looked into the crystal clear water. The ripples made his reflection dance, and he couldn't quite focus on it. Slowly, he relaxed, clearing his mind letting it become one with the water. Nothing would appear if he tried to force it. The surface continued to ripple, he could see his reflection changing into that of his guide, but he could not make out its form. Suddenly there was a bright light on the water, he looked up to see the stars shining in the sky and a brilliant, silvery full Moon hanging above him, its light shining into his eyes and illuminating the forest around him. He shielded himself from the light with his hand and looking past it he saw a shape move into the trees in front of him, beyond the water. Something about its movement beckoned him to follow it.

He trudged through the forest; it was slow going as the roots of the trees were old and gnarled, making the ground treacherous and rough. Just ahead of him, he kept catching glimpses of something white, shining in the moonlight, running just out of his reach. He fought on for what felt like hours, the branches grew thicker. They almost seemed to be holding him back, pulling him, keeping him from following his guide.

After a long struggle through the forest, he saw the bright moonlight from between the trees in front of him. He walked on; his own determination seemed to cause the trees to recede back, clearing his path. Slowly, but surely, he made his way to the edge of the forest.

He found himself on the edge of a steep cliff, the moon hung in the sky in front of him, so large it felt as if he could reach out and touch it. Then he saw it, standing there, proudly, in front of him, its fur shining in the silver moonlight, a brilliant white she-wolf.

She stared at him, her eyes as blue as glacier ice. The young man bowed his head in respect for the mighty spirit creature.

"You have searched long for this," the wolf said to him, her voice serene and calm, "you have fought through the forest of your own unknowing to find me and now you seek my guidance."

"I do," the young man said, raising his face to the wolf's, "I seek to hear the wisdom of my ancestors."

"I am your animal guide," the wolf continued, "but it is not I you seek."

The man stood in silence. "But…" he began.

"You already knew this, child. You know that you will not find what you seek here. This is not the end of your journey, it's beginning. You are a traveler, akin to the air and the Moon as she travels the Wolf's Road through the sky. What you seek cannot be found in sitting meditation in the place of your birth."

"Then what have you brought me here for? What am I to do?" he asked, desperate for knowledge.

"This," the wolf said, it's piercing, ice-blue gaze boring into him, "you also already know. You cannot find your soul in one place. Just as the Moon travels through the sky, you must travel the world. You have seen much with your father, and your father's father, but now you must take a journey on your own. Meditate again, whenever you are feeling lost, and I will be there to guide you, but ultimately the path you chose must be our own. Follow the moon young one, and you will find your true self." And with that she let out a great howl, and as she did the moon shone brighter, so bright that the young man had to shield his eyes from the light. Yet, he felt compelled to look at it and as he did, the light enveloped him, it shone through his soul and suddenly he was once again sitting on the earthen floor of Chief Red-Wolf's tipi.

The young man gasped as his vision returned to reality.

"You have met your Guide?" Red-Wolf asked, his expression like something carved out of red stone.

"Yes," the young man replied breathlessly, "but she told me," he paused, "she told me my journey is only just beginning."

"As I thought," the old medicine man smiled at his grandson, "you are a spirit of the Air and the Wild, just like your mother. You must search the world in order to search yourself.

The young man nodded solemnly, though he still wondered why spirits and old medicine men always had to speak in riddles. "Thank you for this Grandfather."

"You are welcome young one," the old man said, "you still have much to learn from the world, but you have learnt all you can from me. Go now, to the ends of the Earth, but take with you this." He removed one of the leather strings around his neck and held it out to the young man. Dangling from the string was a bone-white fang, with Native carvings engraved on one side.

"This is the talisman of your ancestors. It is the fang of Great Grandfather Wolf, who has guided our people for centuries. Take this with you to remind you of your origins, so that you will always know where your journey began. You will carry our history with you, as you follow your destiny around the world, and know this. You have completed your magical training with me now, and you have finally and truly earned your true name among our people, your people." He dipped his hands in a bowl of red ochre and smeared a line from the young man's hairline down to the tip of his nose, then two more lines under his eyes, "now rise and greet your family Wolf-Howls-At-Moonlight."

The tent flaps opened Wolf-Howls-At-Moonlight stepped out into the bright, Montana sun. The campsite was one of the last truly traditional Native American settlements in the North-West. It was predominantly made up of conical tipi tents, with a few larger tents and structures for public meetings or storage. In the centre of the camp a group of people were preparing a large pile of logs and sticks for a bonfire that night. He smiled as the sun beat down on his tanned face.

He strolled down to the river to sit and watch the nature around him, he truly loved this place, so far removed from the rest of society, both Muggle and magical.

"Hello son," a voice stirred him from his contented state.

"Hey Dad," the young man smiled as a slender white man with grey flecks through his light brown hair came and sat next to him.

"Your mother and I used to sit by this river when we were young." He sighed, "blimey how time flies."

"Yeah," the young man agreed smiling.

"I still can't believe you're twenty-one. I can still remember when you used to ride Grandad Newt's Kneazels around.

The young man laughed, "those poor cats. I've still got the scars from when they decided they'd had enough."

"So how did things go with Red-Wolf?"

"Um, alright," the young man admitted, "I was a bit confused by my vision, but he seemed to know what it was all about."

"He does have a way of making you think he knows everything about you. Boy did he give me the shivvers when I first started seeing your mother. Read me like a book."

"I can only imagine," the young man said. The two men sat by the river for a while; breathing in the fresh clear air and marveling at the wide, open sky.

"Well," the older man finally said, "you may be big strong Wolf-Howls-At-Moonlight to him now, but you know to me you'll always be my little Rolf who got his head stuck in a Plomtruckle."

"If you bring that up in your speech tonight I'll hex you," Rolf said, hitting his father playfully on the shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said smiling, grabbing his son and rubbing the top of his head with his fist.

"Ah Dad," Rolf laughed, "well you'll always be the old man who mistook an exploding Glooberfruit for a harmless Lomble Berry."

"That wasn't pretty," his father said with a shudder.

"We laughed," Rolf reminded him, "Mum thought it was hilarious."

"Well yes," his father admitted, "now let's go find your mother. She was pacing a valley in the dirt the size of the Grand Canyon last time I saw her, she's dying to know about your last lesson with your grandfather."

The two men stood up and walked slowly back to the little Native American village where preparations for the young man's coming-of-age ceremony were well under way. However he couldn't help thinking about the wolf in his vision, and the Moon, and the journey he was soon to take.

AN: If my portrayals of Native Americans in this chapter seemed a bit off that's because (A) they are a wizarding group and therefore may very well be just as different from Muggle Native Americans as English wizards are from us, and (B) I live in Australia, so I'm not exactly an expert on the subject, but I have done a bit of research so I hope my description of the ritual is quite accurate. As always, this story is a WIP so any aspects are subject to change at a later date if anything turns out to be glaringly wrong.