The laughter among the apprentices stopped abruptly, each of Harry's words striking their hearts like a heavy hammer—no longer a shaman?
Harry's demonstration had been swift, so fast they barely registered it. The sight of his singed hair at the end was somewhat comical, almost funny.
But none of the apprentices had ever imagined that such a thing could determine whether they could continue as shamans.
"…If we do this, will the elements sever their connection with us?" Davis gasped. "Will they stop responding to our calls, or… punish us?"
"What do you think?"
Instead of answering directly, Harry pointed to his scorched hair.
In that moment, even the densest apprentice understood the cost—and quietly feared it.
For younger apprentices, being a shaman meant a new kind of magic, a "noble" magic that most couldn't master but they could. For older ones, it represented a new career path, a new industry, new opportunities—a bright future.
No one wanted to be despised by the elements and lose their shamanic power.
"Then, Mentor, by showing us this—doesn't it… affect you?" Cho Chang stammered, her meaning clear to the others.
"Thanks for your concern, Cho, but my situation's unique," Harry said, shaking his head slightly. "Besides, I was only demonstrating. I'll perform a ritual later to seek the elements' forgiveness."
"So, we can't command or force the elements to do anything…" Penelope said, her voice heavy with realization. "I thought it was just a moral guideline."
"I didn't expect it to directly impact the spell's power and outcome," Hermione added, picking up Penelope's thought. "This is… truly unique."
Undoubtedly, in that moment, the apprentices fully grasped what Harry had said in The Daily Prophet not long ago: shamanic magic and wizarding magic were two entirely distinct systems.
Two clearly separate frameworks.
"It's not that strange, is it?" Cedric said with a smile. "It just means we need to treat our relationship with the elements as equal. We can be friends with them—no one's above the other. I think that's pretty great."
"But does that mean if someone's favored enough by the elements, they could command them directly?" Zacharias Smith asked.
"Never! Never think that way!" Harry's gaze turned razor-sharp as he fixed it on Smith. "That thought is the start of corruption. Once you waver, you'll waver again and again until you fall into the abyss."
"No matter how close you are to a friend, you can't ignore their thoughts and feelings, or even the deepest bond will erode… And the elements' nature is chaotic."
Chaos meant they could love you one moment and despise you the next.
"Yes, Mentor, we understand," the apprentices replied solemnly, even Smith nodding along.
"B-but, Mentor… what if we… accidentally anger the elements?" Neville raised a trembling hand, his voice faint.
"I mean—er, I'm always clumsy. What if I mess something up and make the elements angry… what do I do?" Neville was sweating profusely, especially as all eyes turned to him. He swallowed hard.
"The key is always sincerity, Neville," Harry said gently. "As I said, the elements can sense your heart—they know your true intentions. If you don't deliberately insult them, there's likely only one thing you need to do: apologize."
"Like apologizing to a friend after messing up?" Neville asked, wide-eyed.
"Exactly," Harry nodded. "Whether they forgive you is up to them."
"And… Mentor, what if it's intentional?" Zacharias Smith asked again.
"Simple. Pay the price," Harry said calmly, offering no further explanation.
Meeting Harry's gaze, Smith shrank back without another word.
"According to the lessons I once took, I should've had you study the history of shamans first—not just the meaning and responsibilities of the role, but also the languages… and only then move to spells."
That was the path of a proper shaman apprentice in Azeroth.
Unfortunately, Harry wasn't in Azeroth, and the wizarding apprentices here didn't have the luxury of years to study under him.
Only seven years at most, and for many, even less.
"…So, you'll have to work hard on the spellcasting languages yourselves. Today, I'll guide you to try connecting with the fire element."
"Fire element?!" The apprentices erupted in excitement. After today's lesson—and Harry's demonstration—they'd braced for more tedious study, like learning Taur-ahe or elemental tongues, which sounded mind-numbingly dull.
They'd given up on learning anything new today, yet Harry was suddenly letting them attempt a connection with the fire element?
An unexpected thrill!
"But, Mentor, didn't you say we weren't ready to handle another element?" Hermione asked, hesitating.
"It's a bit challenging, but Luna's already at the stage where she can handle fire," Harry said lightly. "So I thought, why not let you all give it a try?"
Hermione: "…"
What did that mean? If Luna hadn't progressed so far, the rest of them would've had to wait?
Harry's words drew every apprentice's gaze to the girl who'd been sitting on the grass, hugging her knees, watching Harry from the start.
She seemed both present and detached from the meadow, barely reacting even when Harry called her name, only lifting her head slowly.
Dreamily.
"Are we meeting new friends, Mentor?" Even in her airy voice, Harry caught a hint of joy in Luna's words.
"Yes, they've been waiting for you for a long time," Harry replied softly.
Before becoming Harry's apprentice, the elements could see Luna, but she couldn't see them. After becoming a shaman, she could only see earth elements.
But today, she'd gain some fiery red friends—Harry had no doubt Luna would succeed.
For Luna, what lay ahead might simply be the joy of meeting new friends. For the other apprentices, however, the new ritual felt nerve-wracking.
It was like time had rewound to their first lesson, when they worried whether they could connect with the earth element… except now, the object of their anxiety had changed.
"I think we're ready. What do we do next?" Davis asked eagerly. "Drink another Spirit Bond potion? Is it a Flame Spirit Bond potion this time?"
"The Spirit Bond potion is necessary, but that doesn't mean you're fully prepared," Harry said, looking at his apprentices with a knowing smile. "A trial awaits you."
"A trial?!" Katie Bell exclaimed, thrilled. "Like the heroes in legends, right? Like King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone to become king."
"King Arthur and Merlin's stories? I loved those as a kid," Padma Patil said excitedly. "So what's our trial? Do we need to pull something out or defeat some monster?"
"Of course not," Harry shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow me to send you on dangerous quests. Your trial is simple—so simple it's like walking to a table to eat bread."
"Actual bread, Mentor?" Ron straightened up, hopeful.
"…No, Ron," Harry said, giving him a deadpan look before continuing. "Your trial will take place tonight. After dinner, before it's fully dark, gather here. Don't tell other students, don't draw attention, and keep a calm mind."
"Then what, Mentor?" Davis asked curiously. "What's the trial about?"
"I can't tell you yet," Harry refused, then added after a pause, "because I need Professor Dumbledore's permission first. I'm not sure if he'll allow you to face something that's… not exactly life-threatening but still a bit risky."
That single sentence set the apprentices' hearts racing, but Harry offered no further details. He simply ended the lesson early, telling them to eat well, rest, and come prepared with no regrets—which only made it sound more terrifying!
He didn't even share more with Hermione, Ron, or Neville, claiming he had teaching duties to attend to and shooing his friends and apprentices back to the castle.
Thanks to Harry's blatant teasing, Hermione shot him a fierce glare, once again accusing him of being a mischievous cow—a nickname she'd used before.
But how could a cow ever be truly mischievous?
Watching his apprentices head back to the castle in groups, Harry suddenly chuckled, as if struck by a thought. Then he walked toward the center of the altar.
An entire summer had passed, and the altar needed a thorough cleaning. Fallen leaves wedged in stone cracks, dust on the totem poles… At the altar's edge, Harry crouched, examining marks on the ground.
More precisely, hoofprints hardened in the soil—their shape, their spacing. Harry could never forget what creature left such tracks.
Centaurs.
Or rather, in this world, centaurs.
Centaurs had been here? Why would they come to the altar?
Curious, Harry checked the surroundings, confirming the altar hadn't been damaged or defiled. He found more hoofprints—all centaur.
Clearly, during the summer break, uninvited guests had visited.
Shaking his head, Harry set the centaur matter aside for now. He piled enough firewood into the altar's central brazier and sat cross-legged before it. A moment later, flames sparked to life among the wood, leaping fiercely as if an angry figure were waving fists.
The heat from the towering stack of burning wood would keep most people five yards away, but Harry sat unfazed before the brazier, letting the flames lick past his cheeks. Oddly, there was no stench of singed hair, despite the fire grazing his temples several times.
The elements were whispering, and Harry spoke softly in return.
As he'd warned his apprentices, he needed to apologize to the elements for his actions.
Sorry, it was just a demonstration… for teaching my apprentices…
Yes, Luna… you've remembered her name, haven't you? She's my apprentice, very talented…
She needs guidance…
Right… yes… only her…
She's different…
Then it's settled…
Opening his eyes, Harry saw the flames before him had weakened, now burning quietly.
He'd… well, reached an understanding with the fire element.
Having never taught apprentices before, Harry was deeply invested in Luna's growth, fearing such a gifted child might stray. That's why he'd given today's stark demonstration.
The elements of this world weren't like those in Azeroth. As Hogwarts' regional elements grew more active, Harry had hoped to learn ancient secrets from them. But he found, to his dismay, that they were… too naive.
Ask about ancient events, and they'd react with pained confusion, unable to say or recall anything. Instead of answering Harry's questions, they only deepened his mysteries.
One question loomed largest: why was the elemental tongue of Azeroth the same language used by this world's elements?
Taur-ahe, to this world's elements, was merely a pleasing, soothing language. But the elemental tongue? When Harry first communicated smoothly with this world's elements, they used the same elemental language as Azeroth's, without any difference.
Too many riddles. Harry yearned to uncover what had happened in this world's ancient past and its connection to Azeroth.
He needed more allies.
After much effort, Harry earned the fire element's forgiveness. Perhaps because they'd been dormant so long, this world's elements were far more amenable than Azeroth's.
Even the fiery, tempestuous fire element was reasonable.
Standing, Harry ignored the flames still roaring in the altar's center and turned toward the Forbidden Forest. He wanted to meet the centaur.
The forest was kinder by day than by night, as many predatory or aggressive magical creatures roamed after dark. Sunlight filtered through sparse branches, warming the leaf-strewn ground. Harry passed the spot where he and Hagrid had encountered Quirrell and Voldemort last year. No trace remained of the churned earth. A winding stream had carved a new path through the reshaped land, flanked by lush grass, as if it had ever been so.
In less than a year, human conflicts left no mark on nature.
Following the path with Hagrid, Harry reached the centaurs' former camp—or what was once their camp.
They'd long since relocated, leaving no litter or signs of habitation. The only proof was the faded etchings on stones, painted with colorful patterns now weathered by time.
Per Dumbledore's orders, the centaur tribe had moved deeper into the forest. Which made their presence at the altar, near Hogwarts, even stranger. Why would centaurs, who'd retreated deep into the Forbidden Forest, to surface near the forest's edge?
It defied Dumbledore's command. Harry knew the centaurs respected him greatly, so what had drawn them out?
Kneeling, Harry gazed at the sky.
"…O ever-present wind… guide me… where have the centaurs gone?"
No clear answer came, only a leaf swirling in the breeze past his ear. Harry nodded, saying no more, and headed northeast.
The centaurs had built a new home, but the wind's words intrigued him more.
They said they wouldn't hide the centaur's whereabouts from him.
And they wouldn't hide from the centaurs that Harry was seeking them.
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