It didn't take long for Purgatory to catch up with the flying deer and his rider, however, Harry did not quite expect it to hit in the extent it did.

It started as an ache in his heard, dull, slowly spreading and becoming more painful until his wings began to lock up. He tried to flap them uselessly, panicked whines escaping the creature as he and his friend tumbled towards the ground.

Cursing, the deer flailed to push Wendy off him so he could transform safely, knowing the Dragon Slayer would be able to divert her fall and would be much safer that way. His transformation hurt as much as his initial one - the leaden icy feeling was everywhere at once with no warning, ripping a loud scream from the transforming boy's throat as his body broke and rearranged itself. This was unnatural, this was wrong. He was not meant to be changing like this.

Then all at once, it all stopped.

The pain disappeared, he froze in mid-air, time seemed to have come to a pause for an unknown reason, even his body refused to move. He felt overly aware, he could feel everything, from the blood in his veins, held back by whatever force had stopped him, his heart receiving no electrical signal from his brain, his lungs frozen and aching, the very air in his body held at a standstill, as painful as the numbness that was slowly enveloping him.

A loud scream tore through him, coming out audible, far too loud, as everything resumed movement and Harry felt an unpleasant pull at his naval, oddly noticeable despite the sheer pain he was in.

And then, like a fish on a hook, he was yanked back, his head and body becoming light as he was dragged back, back to the world he had tried so hard to forget. All he knew was the far too familiar and welcomed darkness.

Voices spoke in strange unrecognisable languages, three different ones, one far more familiar, one close to something he had been taught. It was beginning to nag at him, what was it? Was it Latin? No, of course not. Nobody in Fiore spoke that language, nobody in Earth World at all did.

While he fretted over the language and its connotations, the talking continued, the argument dismissed by the boy on the bed. A distressed cry brought his attention back to the conversation itself though he kept his eyes firmly shut.

"Pleure un coup, tu pisseras moins," A voice snapped, making Harry nearly blow his cover by laughing at the phrase. If he got out of whatever this was alive, he was so going to use that on Gajeel. It was French. French... From his old homeworld.

So that's where he was.

Harry tried not to scowl, despite hearing the voices fade away, presumably leaving. He had to escape. He tried to carefully flex his arms to see if they were restrained, only to find his arms weren't quite as responsive as he might have wished.

They were more so, unfortunately, jerking quite a lot more than he expected and he opened his eyes gingerly to see the ripped leather of now broken magical bonds that had been intended to keep him place fall off his too far away arm.

This was not a revelation Harry was ready for. Not at all - there was no way he was ready to be back in his homeworld, not without his friends or Malum. There was no way he had suddenly grown far too much, no. It was simply not happening. He would not accept it.

He closed his eyes once more, flexing his limbs one by one and almost smiling at the satisfying rip of the bonds holding him. Well, at least that was one problem he didn't have to worry about, be seemed to be physically stronger now. Relieving.

He opened his eyes and attempted to sit up, marvelling at the height at which he sat. He felt as tall as Gajeel, the bloody giant, and euphoric to be so. If he was tall, he could rub it in Gajeel's pointy face that he was no longer a 'shorty.'

If he ever saw Gajeel's pointy face again...

He pushed that thought from his mind forcefully, stretching his legs in awe at how long and painless they felt. He swung his legs over the side of the bed he was on, having not yet taken note of his surroundings as he stood shakily.

Of course, reality took this moment to catch up with him, shoving itself rudely in his face in the form of a blinding headache. He squinted as his eyes cleared, giving him a look at the room he was confined to. It was unfortunately small, all white and silver, too clean, sterile almost, making him wish for nothing more than to ruin it. He was a Beast Slayer, he was not to be contained.

It took him a moment to regain use of his body, his new height intimidating him into pausing before he moved towards the mirror on the opposite end of the room, the only furnishing excluding the bed and light. He stumbled, placing his hands heavily on the mirror. His eyes widened and he took a moment to stare at his hands, large and... Strong. Whatever triggered this improvement, he liked it.

They were too pale though, unnatural. He didn't like that. He found himself missing the richer dark hue of his skin replaced by this forced paleness. He would have to find a way to correct this. It was... Wrong. Unnatural. His dark skin, while not something he usually found a good thing about himself, was a part of him as much as his magic was. He wanted it back. Immediately.

At as if by magic, and likely so, his skin darkened considerably to its usual tone, making Harry sigh in relief before stumbling towards the mirror, mission remembered.

As soon as he came face to face with his reflection, he took back his previous statement. He didn't like this change.

His face, relievingly his natural skin tone like the rest of him now was, was marred by a scar larger than he was used to. The small lightning bolt, previously easily hidden by his hair, was now absolutely ridiculous, huge and spanning across his face, multiple forks of harsh white drawing attention straight to his identity.

He hated it.

The other changes, his eyes a brighter emerald, his body taller, older, more muscular, were useful but did little to lessen his hatred of the changes. He would estimate himself to be around fifteen now, though a tall and gangly fifteen-year-old, his muscles lean rather than in your face like Gajeel's, though he preferred this. He was a hunter, he needed to move undetected, and that was damn near impossible when you were bigger than two pregnant dragons. Now he need only find the reason behind this deplorable change.

Another second made him realise he was stark naked. One more left him uncaring.

He glanced around again, finding a door to the right of him and a window to the left. He walked to the window first, looking out and around. It was a far drop, three or four stories. He wouldn't die, it might hurt a bit though. If he could get through the door, it would be preferable. Thus, he turned to the door, striding to it with a fast pace that pleased him ever so slightly.

Having no need for magic yet, he tried the doorknob, frowning in irritation at its locked state. How inconvenient. He was sure an alarm would go off the moment he unlocked the door from the inside. Did he have a choice though? The window was not something he wished to try this early in waking. He did not know the capabilities of his new body yet, he could harm himself, and as much as he hated himself, he had no wish to do that just yet.

"Aasim's Freedom Blast," He said, not noticing the verbal spell rather than his usual telepathic thinking. He was so sure his throat was destroyed and him incapable of speech that he could not even register that he had spoken aloud.

A small burst of white light hit the door, dissolving it entirely. Harry winced as a loud alarm hit his ears. Obviously, it would go off even if he vaporised the damn door.

Harry didn't bother to think, he took off running in hopes of finding an exit. He heard yelling - was that English? - from the corridor to his left and thus sprinted straight on, no idiot to run straight away from his perceived danger, plain in their sight, and began to winding journey of looking for a way out of crazy town.

Or not apparently.

It was a maze of confusion, this place. There were portraits on the walls, staring down at him, their eyes full of judgement and anger and he could swear one just moved. He hurried down some stairs, relieved to have thus far encountered nobody.

It was only when the staircase suddenly jerked and began to move that he began to panic. What the heck was happening? Why was the staircase moving? This shouldn't be happening. This was bad. Very bad.

Harry just wanted to sit and have a good cry, something he had not done for years and would very well not be doing now, his mind snapped at him. He looked around before raising his hand, an arrow of light appearing quite easily.

"Point me," He hissed in English, the language sounding strange to his own mind. Ears, his mind corrected.

Ears?

That implied he had spoken aloud... He'd spoken aloud. He had spoken, aloud.

Harry couldn't quite wrap his head around it and didn't get the chance to as a large something slammed into his back, unnoticed by Harry due to his state of shock, his head hitting the stairs painfully. If it weren't for the concussion he already had, he might have been fine, however, those upstairs did enjoy using Harry as a personal punching bag, so he was once more forced to welcome the darkness he ought to have befriended already.

I would like to quickly apologise for my absense and its timescale. I didn't wish to withold from writing for so long. I again apologise and hope you can forgive me.

A huge thank you to those who continued to read my stories and have not given up hope, I would not be here without you!