When a race's population dwindles to a certain point, it signals the brink of extinction for that race or its culture—Harry understood this all too well.
In truth, this wasn't a problem unique to the tauren. Even Malygos, the Blue Dragon King, had been driven to the edge of madness over it.
What pushed Malygos beyond betrayal by Neltharion wasn't just the treachery itself—it was the slaughter that left the blue dragonflight nearly wiped out, reduced to a mere handful of survivors, like a litter of big and small kittens numbering two or three. The weight of responsibility as their leader, coupled with self-reproach and the desolate emptiness of their clan's territory, were key factors in unraveling Malygos's sanity.
Harry cracked a joke about it, but this time, not a single student laughed—not even the Gryffindors. Every face remained solemn. Young as they were, they were still wizards, and the future of wizarding society was inextricably tied to them.
He pressed on:
"I can only answer Hermione's question here and provide my response—why do I want to revive the elements, and what is the purpose of a shaman's existence in this world?
"When I first realized I'd left Azeroth and returned to the world where I was born, reviving the elements was, to be honest, just a professional instinct—a way to keep myself busy. But now, things are completely different.
"Having studied the history of wizards and the evolution of wizarding society, I've found my historical mission—a grand endeavor only I can undertake. As I once told Dumbledore, those with power should stand at the forefront and shoulder the greatest responsibilities. That's what makes a hero."
So Harry stepped forward.
"Let me first clarify one thing: the revival of the elements is inevitable," Harry said earnestly. "Even without shamans, the elements would resurgence in about one to two hundred years—though that's just my rough estimate. It's not exact. Three or four hundred years is also possible."
"For beings without a lifespan limit, this time difference isn't much."
By this point, few students were still listening to Harry's follow-up. They couldn't help but turn to their neighbors, buzzing about the timeline he'd given. For wizards, who often lived one or two hundred years, this wasn't some distant future—it might happen in their lifetime, or their children's, or their grandchildren's. Even Dumbledore fixed his gaze on Harry; he'd never heard him mention a specific timeline for the elemental revival before.
Harry had to flick his wand a few times, sending sharp bangs through the air, to quiet the students down.
"As I just said, the revival of the elements is a future that's bound to come. In fact, elemental forces are already stirring in certain special places around the world." Harry gestured to the remnants left by the earth element beside him. "Take the four elements you just saw—earth, wind, water, and fire. If we were somewhere else, I wouldn't be able to summon ones this massive."
"This is a major reason I'm determined to spread the way of the shaman," Harry continued. "I believe it's better for wizards to start learning how to coexist with elemental spirits now, rather than waiting for the elements to revive and then fumbling through first contact with beings that have their own wills and senses of good and evil, starting from scratch."
"On one hand, this can prevent wizards from making fools of themselves—or worse, sparking misunderstandings—when dealing with revived elemental spirits in the future. On the other, it lets wizards contribute to the elements' revival, helping ensure that, as much as possible, these resurgent elements become our allies."
"Professor Harry! What if some elements don't want to be our allies?" a student suddenly stood and shouted. Harry didn't recognize him—judging by his robes, he was a Hufflepuff.
"Then we send them out of this world before they can cause damage or loss," Harry replied curtly. "Or we could consider building something like Azkaban for elements—call it the Violet Hold or something. You lot can vote on it in the Daily Prophet when the time comes."
"Hahahahahaha!"
The students burst into laughter, easing some of the tension Harry's earlier words had stirred. Even the professors joined in.
"Go ahead, Percy," Harry said, nodding to the red-haired boy.
"So, in a way, shamans are like a different kind of Auror?" Percy stood after getting permission. "Their main job is preventing elemental crimes and hunting down elements that break the rules? The Ministry might even set up a new department to manage shamans and elements."
Percy's comment sent the students into even louder laughter, as if a fog had lifted. Harry's earlier words had sounded daunting, but Percy's spin made it feel oddly familiar and approachable.
"Er, in a sense, you could say that," Harry said, momentarily thrown off. "But the power of the elements isn't something an Auror chasing a criminal could match."
Having witnessed it firsthand, no one could truly fathom what an enraged elemental lord was capable of.
"At its core, what I'm doing now is simply hastening a future that's already inevitable," Harry said, raising his voice. "And for each of us, the real question is: when the elements revive, how will our lives change?"
"First off, casting spells will become much easier," Harry answered without preamble. "The air will be brimming with magic. You'll find your spells hitting harder out of nowhere. And the variety of spells wizards can cast will grow—not just drawing from the magic in your own body, but also tapping directly into the ambient magic around you."
Truth be told, this revelation excited Professor Flitwick more than the students. He looked ready for the elements to revive tomorrow so he could dive into researching new spells.
No one doubted Harry's words. The battlefield scars left by those four massive, clashing elements were still right there beside them. Honestly, plenty of the young witches and wizards figured even the Ministry's Aurors couldn't pull off something like that. With power like Harry's, why would he need to lie?
No wonder he was Harry Potter!
"Then there are the little details of daily life to watch out for," Harry said, his expression turning a bit peculiar. "You'll notice things around you starting to move on their own, without anyone casting a spell—some might even talk. Take Hogwarts as an example: you might see water elements swimming around in the Black Lake, or on sunny days, earth elements popping up from the grass for a stroll."
"Or maybe you'll find that milk you left in your dorm for the next day has turned into a milk element. Hmm, a pudding element's possible too."
His words sparked a chorus of gasps.
"Professor Harry, does that mean I could have an endless supply of milk?!" a student shouted.
"Of course not," Harry said with a laugh. "The milk element is made of the milk you left behind. If you drink it all, it'll die—or vanish."
"Oh, never mind then," the student said with a shrug. "I'd rather have a little pet. That sounds fun. Would it stick around forever?"
"If you keep adding milk to its body regularly, then yes," Harry nodded.
The students' whispers grew louder in an instant, everyone buzzing with excitement as they imagined what strange and wondrous elemental pets they might have.
"I know you're all thrilled," Harry said, raising his voice to cut through the chatter, "but I have to warn you: when that day comes, you'll need to keep your trash in check. I doubt you'd want to wake up one morning to find your garbage has turned into a garbage element, sloshing soup and muck all over your house—you get the picture."
He didn't elaborate, but everyone seemed to catch a whiff of an all-too-real stench. Faces paled.
"I can't paint the full picture of that new life for you—real life is too unpredictable for anyone to imagine completely," Harry said with a wry smile. "But these are just small, peripheral changes."
"For us wizards and wizarding society itself, the biggest shift will be this: once the elements revive, there'll be more magical newborns," Harry said softly. "More people, more wizards. By then, Hogwarts won't have enough professors with just this handful. Picture it: just the first-year class alone swelling to three or four hundred students—maybe even more. The castle packed with kids, dorms expanded over and over, a dozen students crammed into each room…"
"Oh my God! Professor Harry, hold on a second!" Lee Jordan suddenly raised his hand and said, "If I had to live with a dozen Freds or Georges, I'm afraid I'd jump out of the castle window on the very first night of term."
The students burst into laughter, accompanied by the grumbling protests of the Weasley twins.
"No worries, Jordan," Harry quipped back with a grin, "By then, maybe we'll have Hogwarts branches—like, say, Hogwarts Ireland or Hogwarts Britain."
"Excuse me for interrupting," Dumbledore suddenly raised his hand and said, "but I'm afraid I don't have the energy to manage so many Hogwarts. Honestly, dealing with the affairs of just one is taxing enough."
Dumbledore's jest sent the room into an even livelier uproar. The scene Harry described sparked vivid imaginings among several of the professors.
Unlike the students, who had yet to step into the wider world, these professors were far more aware of the wizarding society's flaws and its future prospects than most.
After all, every year they fretted over job prospects for that year's graduates. Given the current state of the magical world, finding work was indeed getting harder—wizards lived long lives, their society was small, turnover was low, and the available positions and needs were, frankly, limited to just those few.
To varying degrees, the professors began pondering what the future Harry described might actually mean.
A more prosperous wizarding society, a thriving economy, and more jobs?
"In short, we'd have a larger population and more possibilities—a future with growth again," Harry said, shaking his head. "At the very least, I can't just sit by and watch the wizarding population dwindle bit by bit until the day the elements awaken. If I did nothing, I don't know how many wizards would still be around when that day naturally arrives—or how they'd survive under Muggle technology."
"That's my answer to your question, Hermione," Harry said, turning to her. "Do you have any more doubts?"
Hermione shook her head, her cheeks flushing red.
"Professor Harry! Let's put Hermione's stuff aside for now!" Fred called out teasingly. "Seriously, I can't wait to become a shaman priest!"
"Want to start learning how to harness the power of the elements right away?" Harry suddenly asked the room. He saw the students' heads bobbing eagerly.
"Want to summon something as massive as the element I just called forth?"
Even faster nodding.
"Want to divine? To master foreseeing the future you wish to know?"
The nodding was so rapid it left afterimages.
"Excellent," Harry nodded. "Do you remember which professor I said I really disliked earlier?"
The students fell silent for a moment.
"…Professor Binns?" After a long pause, surprisingly, it was Malfoy who raised his hand. "Because his lectures are so dull they keep us from learning anything useful… That's what you said, right?"
Under everyone's gaze, Malfoy's voice grew quieter.
"Exactly, Malfoy," Harry said, flashing Draco Malfoy a smile and a nod. "I'm glad you were paying attention. If I were a real professor, I'd probably give you two points."
Malfoy sat back down, Crabbe and Goyle still flanking him. That usually pale face was now flushed with excited color.
"If you want to become shaman priests just to gain elemental power, I'd reject your application to join," Harry said softly. "This isn't as simple as mastering a unique spell. Shaman priests have their own history and bear significant responsibilities."
"And the first lesson of the Shaman Club starts with that history," Harry said firmly. "I'll tell you about the duties every shaman priest carries. Beyond being mediators of the elements, they're protectors of the natural order. They also wield the power of souls, communing with ancestors and drawing wisdom from the spirits of all things."
"That's the divination you were so eager to learn," Harry said, locking eyes with the students. "Divination isn't for personal gain—it's for guiding the future of the clan or helping the lost find their way forward again."
"It's not for fame or glory, nor for money or wealth—only by understanding responsibility and duty can you become a true shaman priest."
To Professor McGonagall, though Harry was still very young—his frame not yet towering, his voice still carrying traces of youth—his presence alone exuded the aura a professor should have.
The kind that could command a room and make students sit up and listen.
Take now, for instance: even the most mischievous Weasley twins had stopped joking around and were quietly absorbing Harry's account of shaman priest history.
"It began when the elemental powers hidden in the earth, air, fire, and water were first discovered. That's when shamanic teachings were born, enduring to this day…"
Omitting any mention of Azeroth, Harry reframed it as a secret tradition buried within wizarding society, now emerging into the open as the elements gradually reawakened.
—The little witches and wizards were eating it up. They were thrilled, hooked by the mystique and grandeur of it all.
If they only learned how to wield power without understanding why, they'd end up with a bunch of reckless individuals bending elemental forces to their own will, even using them for selfish desires. That was the last thing Harry wanted.
That's why, at the peak of their excitement, he didn't move straight into selecting official club members. Instead, he began recounting the origins and history of shaman priests, along with their creed.
This way, even if some students later strayed from the shaman path due to personal greed, they'd be a minority. Every group had such people—they'd need to be dealt with, but they wouldn't tear the organization apart.
The detailed history of shaman priests would be taught gradually to his students in the future. For now, Harry gave a broad overview of their past—mostly insights from tauren shamans about the natural world, their attitudes toward all things, the responsibilities they bore, and the lives they led.
Truth be told, these insights varied among shamans of different races. Orc or troll shamans, for instance, had similar yet distinct perspectives. As for goblin shamans, well, their beliefs even included the word "gold."
Though he was recounting shaman-related history, unlike Professor Binns' classes, the students didn't find it dull in the slightest.
On the contrary, they were utterly captivated by the past Harry described—honestly, he wasn't worried they'd get bored and leave early or anything like that.
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