"I want a really, really cool and absolutely dazzling entrance, Harry. You know what I mean." Those were James Potter's exact words. The Anc
"I want a really, really cool and absolutely dazzling entrance, Harry. You know what I mean."
Those were James Potter's exact words.
The Ancestral Spirit summoned through the Totem of the Ancestors did indeed radiate a ghostly blue soul-light, a translucent shimmer that set it apart from the milky-white transparency of a wizard's ghost. This was one of the key distinctions between the spirits called forth by shamanic magic and those of wizarding lore.
Though their appearances differed, the glow of a typical Ancestral Spirit wasn't usually this striking—certainly not enough to cast a blue sheen across the faces of those seated in the front row, even under the bright daylight of the sun.
As the deliberately intense burst of ghostly blue light faded, James Potter struck a dramatic pose, dropping to one knee in a flourish he'd carefully chosen after much deliberation. He'd even drawn inspiration from Muggle comics he'd read in life.
The effect was spectacular, leaving the gathered students utterly speechless.
Every pair of eyes widened, fixed on the translucent figure that had suddenly appeared. Those seated at the back stood up to get a better look, while others leaned forward or shuffled closer, craning their necks for a clearer view.
A larger-than-life Harry Potter—no, that wasn't quite right. It was more accurate to say Harry Potter resembled this man. He looked older, more mature, with faint blue stubble on his chin, glasses perched on his nose, and a brilliant smile lighting up his face.
Every child from a wizarding family recognized that face. They'd visited Godric's Hollow with their parents, seen the Potter family's memorial statue, and knew the names of that famous trio—James Potter! This was James Potter!
"Merlin's pants…"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
What were they seeing?
Professor Potter had been telling the truth—he'd actually summoned his father's soul?!
The soul of someone who had died?!
"Hey, kids, hello!" James Potter raised a hand, giving a cheerful wave. "Good to see you all—yes, you over there, and you too! Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, it's been a while since we last met—I mean, it's great to see you both."
James winked playfully, alluding to their gathering last year in Harry's suitcase world. McGonagall's expression back then, upon seeing him and Lily, had been as if she'd seen a ghost.
Well, technically, she had seen a ghost.
"Oh, it's been far too long, James," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "I'm relieved to see you're doing well… over there."
"Of course I'm doing well—especially now that I can pop back into this world for a bit of fun!" James shrugged, grinning. "Only downside is I can't eat or touch anything. Bit of a shame, really."
"Seeing this world again is fortune enough, James," McGonagall said with a tight smile. "You mustn't ask for more."
"You're right, Professor, as always."
Acting as if he owned the place, James Potter floated from the front of the field to the back, one hand on his hip, waving enthusiastically at the excited students calling out to him. He was like a celebrity greeting his most devoted fans.
"So—Mr. Potter, you're really real?!" a Ravenclaw student shouted, unable to hold back as James returned to Harry's side. "This isn't some illusion spell? We're not hallucinating—sorry, I'm just so curious!"
"Oh, I'm as real as it gets," James replied, clearly thrilled to be back in front of an audience. He zipped right up to the Ravenclaw, passing through the student's body with a mischievous grin.
"Merlin's beard! That's cold!" the student yelped, hugging their arms and shivering. "It's just like when a ghost passes through you! That's so cool!"
"Isn't it?" James said, beaming with pride. He mimed clapping the student on the shoulder, making them flinch from the icy sensation. "I'm the real deal, kid. That's the magic of it all."
No further proof was needed. James Potter's soul standing before them was evidence enough.
With Harry's permission, the students lined up to meet James, shaking his hand—or trying to, at least. The bolder ones even went for hugs, which James happily obliged, never one to turn down a bit of affection.
They marveled at touching an Ancestral Spirit, running their hands over the Totem of the Ancestors planted in the ground, studying its intricate, meaningful patterns. Their curiosity was thoroughly sated.
"Remember," Harry said as the students returned to their seats, "unlike those who specialize in soul magic and can manipulate, twist, or shape souls, we shamans only call upon the Ancestral Spirits. That's a critical distinction."
He continued, "This means we're borrowing their power, and we can't force them to act against their will. Remember what I said earlier? The spirits we summon are tied to our bloodline or the bloodline of the person for whom the ritual is performed."
"I'm guessing none of you would be mad enough to mess with your own ancestors' souls, right?" Harry shrugged, a wry smile on his face. "Of course, like any magic, if someone uses it for ill, Azkaban's always got room for one more."
His words sparked a wave of laughter. The students found the idea of disrespecting their ancestors' souls absurd—no one would be that foolish.
Amid the laughter, Dumbledore gave a subtle nod, quietly relieved.
Shamanic soul magic didn't involve directly wielding or shaping soul energy for specific effects. Instead, it summoned an Ancestral Spirit tied to the summoner's bloodline, who then performed the magic. The process involved an intermediary, meaning the spirit itself cast the spell.
A soul, no longer bound by mortal laws or morality, using its own inherent power—this was perfectly reasonable. It gave Dumbledore confidence that he could persuade the Wizengamot later, easing a significant burden.
"We understand, Professor Potter!" a student called out. "It's like how we treat the elements—we don't force them; we ask for their help. Um, I think my grandpa's soul would probably help me."
The student's uncertain expression as he mentioned his grandfather prompted another round of laughter.
"You've got the right idea," Harry said, chuckling. "Never forget that mindset. Just as you wouldn't want someone forcing you to do something against your will, neither do the elements or the spirits—not even your friends, for that matter."
McGonagall nodded approvingly. Harry was doing well, weaving moral lessons into his teaching, which was commendable.
With the demonstration complete, Harry brought out a large crate of Earth Spirit Potions, signaling the moment the students had been waiting for. They would drink the potion, connect with the earth element through various mystical means, and become shamans.
Elemental magic was dazzling, soul magic was wondrous, and the shamanic arts, so distinct from wizarding magic, captivated the young witches and wizards. After Harry's display, everyone was eager to summon their own ancestors and hear stories of the past.
For those who had lost loved ones early, the desire to summon an Ancestral Spirit was even stronger.
To witness such extraordinary magic but be unable to connect with the elements felt almost cruel.
"First, drink slowly—don't choke," Harry instructed. "Second, while sensing the earth element, don't do anything bizarre. I don't want to see anyone burying themselves in dirt or hanging from a tree again. Third, keep a calm heart. Even if you don't connect with the element, it doesn't mean your path ends here.
"My classes will continue, and becoming a shaman is just one branch of your life's journey. Don't make it your everything—you'll have plenty of choices ahead. That's all. Now, drink."
Not only the Hogwarts students but also the Squibs drank the Earth Spirit Potion in unison, downing the contents with excitement.
To everyone's astonishment, Harry even led four centaurs out from the Forbidden Forest, each receiving a potion as well. No one had noticed these centaurs observing from the woods, blending seamlessly into the surroundings.
These centaurs were also Harry's apprentices. They hadn't been present when the elements first appeared to their tribe, so at Triton's request, they'd come to study under Harry, learning a different path of shamanism from their tribe's traditions.
In the future, they would serve as bridges between the centaur tribe and the outside world, refining their own shamanic practices and becoming founding members of the Earthen Ring, sharing Harry's vision and providing invaluable support.
The students, Squibs included, were naturally curious about the centaurs, but their priority was sensing the earth element, so they refrained from crowding them.
No surprises occurred. Harry didn't spot any prodigies on par with Luna, and the lesson proceeded smoothly.
As dusk fell and Harry announced the end of the class, a chorus of disappointed groans filled the air. Still, he had gained a new batch of apprentices.
The numbers were modest: Fred and George Weasley from Gryffindor both sensed the earth element, as did three Hufflepuffs, one Ravenclaw, and, astonishingly, four Slytherins.
Unlike last year, nearly every Slytherin had attended Harry's class this time.
These cunning snakes knew true power when they saw it and weren't above humbling themselves for real benefits. Draco Malfoy, once a target of bullying in Slytherin, had risen to dominate the house after becoming a shaman.
He was formidable. Even under school rules, older students couldn't touch him. Among Harry's apprentices, Draco was uniquely dedicated to physical training, aspiring to match Harry's strength.
Because of this, the Slytherins Draco had bested last year attended this class with newfound humility, setting aside their pride. If they didn't learn, Draco would forever hold sway over them—an unacceptable prospect.
Compared to that, Harry's defeat of Voldemort was something these pure-bloods could temporarily overlook.
They were here to learn skills! Their commitment to pure-blood honor remained unshaken—or so they claimed.
The four new Slytherin shamans made quite the stir, smirking coldly at Draco, who returned the look with a smirk of his own, cracking his knuckles ominously.
The students who didn't make the cut were envious, watching the new shamans' uncontainable joy with a mix of longing and frustration. But what shocked them most was that seven Squibs had also become shamans.
It was almost unbelievable!
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