"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied simply.
"A new kind of magic?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"A magic you developed entirely on your own?"
"No one in this world could teach me shamanic spells."
"As far as I know, you grew up with your Muggle aunt and uncle, and you didn't attend Hogwarts until last year. Before that, you had no exposure to magic?"
"Yes, ma'am, if you mean the magic known to wizards, then no."
After this brief exchange, the fourth courtroom did not quiet down. If anything, it grew noisier.
Harry could hear wizards shouting things like "Impossible!" "Little liar!" and "Lies!" though some countered with remarks like "That's Harry Potter!" "Maybe!" or "What if?" The most bizarre part was the source of the noise—skeptical and supportive voices alike came from Ministry employees seated in the stands near the courtroom's entrance. The Wizengamot members, however, merely tilted their heads, whispering to those beside them.
Truth be told, Harry's responses had been somewhat… arrogant, especially the line about no one in the world being able to teach him shamanic spells. He was telling the truth, but to the wizards in the stands, it sounded as if he were saying no one was worthy of being his teacher.
Arrogant indeed. Some would challenge such audacity, while others believed it precisely because of that audacity—after all, history was replete with examples of such boldness. Exceptionally gifted wizards often outshone their mediocre peers, displaying creativity and talent early on. Their magical power and strength could dominate the entire wizarding world.
No need to dredge up centuries-old examples. Recent history alone was impossible to ignore: Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald—and for the British wizarding world, the ever-looming name of Voldemort. From a young age, these figures had shown astonishing talent. So, even if Harry now boldly claimed before the Wizengamot—the pinnacle of British wizarding society—that he had invented a new form of magic, plenty of wizards would still believe him.
Extraordinary talent? Perfectly normal. Every few decades, the wizarding world produced one or two such individuals. If you counted from when Voldemort first emerged… the timing seemed about right.
Amid the ongoing arguments, Madam Marchbanks had finished asking some preliminary questions. She turned to Fudge and said, "I'd like to request permission, Minister, to have the boy demonstrate here."
"No problem," Fudge replied readily. "But the Trace on Harry likely won't react, for reasons you already know."
"Of course," Marchbanks nodded. "I only wish to see this boy's elemental magic with my own eyes—the kind, as you say, Minister, that even the Trace cannot detect. Is that possible, Mr. Potter?"
She turned to Harry.
"Yes," Harry nodded, glancing at his surroundings. "Right here, then?"
The center of the fourth courtroom was rather crowded, with Mafalda Hopkirk, Terry Boot, a Beater, Dumbledore, and others present.
"Yes," Marchbanks replied solemnly. "By the authority of the Wizengamot, you are permitted to cast magic in the fourth courtroom."
"Alright," Harry said, gesturing for the others to step back. He raised his right hand. "As our esteemed Minister Fudge just mentioned, besides being a wizard, Terry Boot is also a shamanic priest. Likewise, as his mentor, I am a shamanic priest as well."
"It's well known that when a wizard casts a spell, the spell requires the wizard's own magical energy and intent to take effect. A wizard's will and the magic within their body are essential for a spell to work."
"Since starting at Hogwarts last year, I've been curious about the ghosts living in the castle. They were wizards in life, and according to the books, ghosts linger because they lack the courage to move on after death, returning to the world of the living instead."
"They retain all their memories, can converse normally with the living, and even reflect on right and wrong. Yet, they cannot cast magic. I suspect this is because ghosts lack a physical body, and thus, their magical energy is gone."
From what Harry had observed of Voldemort's state last year, even he couldn't use magic directly as a soul fragment. He had to possess another's body to cast spells.
"You're pursuing the essence of spells," Marchbanks nodded. "It's hard to imagine a first-year student pondering such profound questions. Perhaps this is what separates a genius from the ordinary. But, child, how does this relate to the magic I've asked you to demonstrate?"
"Because it's a completely different magical system, ma'am," Harry said succinctly.
The room erupted.
"He's mad?!"
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
A cacophony of shouts filled the air as wizards voiced their disbelief, the noise growing until Fudge was forced to use his wand to create a loud bang to restore order.
"If I heard correctly," Marchbanks said, "you're claiming you've created a magic distinct from all we've used before—a completely unrelated, new magical system? A new spell framework?" Despite knowing something of this already, hearing it firsthand made her question if she'd misheard.
Did this boy truly understand what he was saying?
Did he grasp the weight of his words?
Even Dumbledore and Grindelwald, internationally recognized as once-in-a-century geniuses, hadn't made their mark until their third or fourth year. And even when they began stirring up the wizarding world, they still operated within the traditional magical system, merely innovating within it. Even Dumbledore—the greatest wizard of the age!
"I can't listen to this anymore, Dumbledore!" a man in the Wizengamot's plum-colored robes stood, raising his hand. "Are you sure this boy is sane? Rein in your student!"
"Oh, Mosath, calm down," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Why not let Harry finish? If you're going to oppose something, you should at least understand it first."
Though he didn't say it outright, Dumbledore's words effectively endorsed Harry's actions.
"Silence!" Fudge created another loud noise to maintain order in the courtroom. "Continue, Harry."
Though Fudge called Harry by his first name, his expression and mood were far from pleasant.
How had things spiraled like this?
A magic that bypassed the Trace, wielded by two first-year wizards, had already caused a breach in magical secrecy. Shouldn't the focus be on condemning this dangerous, law-breaking behavior? Why was the Wizengamot fixating on irrelevant details?
Frankly, the Wizengamot's reaction was far calmer than Fudge had expected, even when Harry claimed to have invented an entirely new magical system.
What a ridiculous notion.
Why focus on this bizarre magic? Shouldn't the issue be Terry Boot's lawbreaking and Harry's potential undetected violations?
Fudge couldn't comprehend it.
"Thank you, esteemed Minister," Harry said with little sincerity before continuing. "As I was saying, in my view, the magic wizards cast relies on the magical energy produced within their bodies."
"But has anyone considered another possibility? That the world we live in—our natural environment—holds another kind of power?"
The wizards in the stands watched the boy speaking confidently below, without a hint of nervousness. Some older wizards felt their vision blur, as if the figure standing there wasn't a child but a young man—eerily reminiscent of a young Dumbledore.
The real Dumbledore, white-haired and bearded, stood beside him, a stark contrast.
Harry's words continued.
"…They've existed since time immemorial, long before humans, predating even the recorded history of wizards. They persist to this day—the elements."
"Earth, water, fire, storm."
As Harry spoke, his raised right palm summoned phenomena matching his words: stones broke from the walls, water seeped from the air, flames flickered into existence, and a condensed storm crackled with lightning.
This was proof—undeniable evidence presented before all.
"If we roughly call traditional wizarding magic 'internal casting,' then this elemental magic could be called 'external casting,'" Harry said calmly. "No incantations are needed, or rather, the words you naturally speak become the incantation. You release your magical energy and commune with the ever-present elemental spirits, requesting their aid to achieve the desired effect. In fact, you don't even need to release magical energy—just focus your mind."
"This is elemental magic."
With his final words, Harry clenched his fist, and the four elemental manifestations swirling around his fingertips vanished without a trace.
Silence fell.
Shock? Contemplation? Some other emotion?
For several seconds, the fourth courtroom was devoid of any extraneous sound.
Finally.
"No incantation," came a faint but clear voice. It was Mosath, the one who had challenged Harry earlier. He was now standing, eyes wide. "No gestures—just words?"
Wands weren't strictly necessary for wizarding magic. Wizards from Uagadou in Africa could cast spells using only their fingers or gestures. But even they required incantations, and gestures were essential, even if just a wave.
For wand-using wizards, wandless and silent magic still required some motion—a flick of the hand, perhaps.
Yet Harry had merely extended his right hand. Everyone could see he made no movements, only spreading his fingers.
"If I recall correctly, Mr. Potter," another Wizengamot member, unknown to Harry, spoke up. "When I saw that… earth elemental creature earlier, it jogged my memory. Years ago, the Daily Prophet published a photo of your Muggle relatives' house, reduced to something like a rubble giant?"
"Yes, that was also an earth elemental. You could call it a concrete elemental," Harry nodded. "I needed help at the time, so I called upon the power of the earth element. I regret the damage caused to my aunt and uncle's home, but thankfully, Headmaster Dumbledore repaired it. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said with a chuckle.
The scene grew somewhat chaotic, but the two of them remained as relaxed as ever.
"So, Madam Marchbanks," Harry turned to the elderly witch. "Do you need further demonstrations?"
"No," Marchbanks said, withdrawing her complex gaze. She shook her head, exhaling deeply. "I don't understand it."
"Perhaps this truly is a new magical system," she said with a wry smile. "Its mysteries are likely known only to you, its creator, so we cannot judge it. The one thing I can confirm is that the magic you just demonstrated is indeed not the magic wizards typically use."
No objections.
As one of the most senior and respected members of the Wizengamot, Marchbanks' conclusion carried weight.
"If that is your conclusion," Madam Bones nodded to Marchbanks before addressing the room. "Does anyone in the Wizengamot disagree with Madam Marchbanks' assessment?"
Whispers rippled through the Wizengamot as members conferred, but no one stood to oppose her.
"In that case…" Bones turned back to Harry, her tone serious. "Harry James Potter, can you guarantee that you have not used this novel elemental magic outside of Hogwarts during the holidays?"
"I guarantee it," Harry said calmly.
"Very well. As for Terry Boot," Bones continued, "due to your unauthorized use of magic during the holidays, and considering this is your first offense, you will receive a warning letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office. Further violations will result in harsher penalties."
"…Yes, ma'am!" Terry Boot stammered. "But, but my mentor, I—"
The outcome was almost too good to be true. He'd feared he'd committed an unforgivable mistake, dragging Harry into trouble, yet his punishment was merely a warning letter.
"As for Harry James Potter," Bones said, "the charges are dismissed. Minister?"
She looked to Fudge.
"What? That's it?" Fudge's eyes widened in disbelief. "But his magic? I mean—the law!"
"The law forbids us from convicting someone without evidence, Minister," Bones said coldly. "We have no proof that Mr. Potter used magic outside of Hogwarts. As for Terry Boot, his punishment has been issued in accordance with the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. He will receive a warning letter."
"A warning letter?!" Fudge squawked, sounding like a chicken about to be slaughtered. "That's all? The Memory Modification Squad was busy for nights over this! It nearly—"
"I am the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Minister Fudge," Bones interrupted sharply. "When it comes to legal matters, I believe I'm better informed than you. Frankly, if Mr. Potter's claims are true, we may need a new method to replace the Trace for monitoring underage wizards. That's the critical issue."
Fudge fell silent, staring at Bones.
"…Fine, fine," he finally muttered, looking away. His gaze fell on Harry, who was speaking with Dumbledore. "So be it—a new magic? Hah!"
A new method to detect elemental magic would undoubtedly require the help of Harry, its inventor. And what would this boy gain from it?
Or rather, what would Dumbledore gain?
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