It was the same in North America. The magic there was potent, but it wasn't the gangster-dressed mages of New York, or the hooded conclaves of the Florida Keys you had to be wary of. It was the ancient magic of the Native Americans, the covens of the Ozarks, the shape shifting witches of Minnesota ... they were the ones who'd turn your insides out without so much as a warning shot. Harry had learnt so much from those groups. He was eminently thankful for the lessons they'd taught him ... and the help they'd pledged when it was time for his revolution.