Harry Potter: Returning from Azeroth

Many believe that shamans serve the elemental forces, acting as their subordinates. In truth, their relationship is often one of mutual communication and equality.

Elementals possess their own will—they can experience joy, anger, betrayal, and even hostility toward one another. The role of a shaman is to maintain balance among these forces, preventing their conflicts from becoming so severe that the natural order is disrupted.

It's a symbiotic process. The presence of a shaman brings balance and integration to the elements, while the shaman thrives and grows stronger through the power of the elements.

Harry was certain that even in the world of his birth, there existed a significant degree of elemental power. This was not only because he had already summoned dormant elements, but also because this world itself exuded harmony and balance.

A lack of water elements would dry up rivers. A deficiency of earth elements would render the land barren. Without wind, the air would grow stagnant. And the absence of fire would lead to decay and desolation.

Both scarcity and excess are undesirable. Only balance provides the optimal environment for human survival.

—Based on everything Harry had observed so far, the elemental forces of this world were undoubtedly in balance.

Lighting a strand of mallow and sage, Harry inhaled their smoke deeply—the soft floral fragrance carried a faint powdery texture, mingling with the sharpness of camphor. Yes, this aroma was just right.

Although different worlds have distinct herbs, Harry had to admit that the centaurs of this world had chosen wisely for their rituals.

It was said that centaur shamans used such methods of divination to guide their tribes. Harry found himself curious to witness how his counterparts in this world conducted their practices.

However, his immediate concern was how to carve a proper totem for the ritual. In battle, totems could be directly condensed using earth elements, but those for rituals needed to be hand-carved to hold meaning and earn the elements' acknowledgment.

Harry had scoured his newly purchased magical books and found spells that could assist in this task. Yet after several attempts, he had to admit that his current skills were insufficient for such precise craftsmanship.

Moreover, he still hadn't fully grasped the temperament of this world's elements, making it difficult to even prepare appropriate offerings. Simplicity seemed the best approach for now.

Seizing the opportunity while the Dursleys were away—though they had softened toward Harry due to his promised inheritance, they would surely lose their tempers if they caught him conducting magical rituals at home—he chose a secluded corner in the shadow of the garden fence.

From the refrigerator, Harry gathered fruits, Dudley's snacks, and Uncle Vernon's liquor, arranging them neatly as offerings.

Summoning the power of the earth element, Harry raised a totem engraved with water patterns from the garden soil. As he chanted, he plunged it into the ground. The patterns on the totem reflected both calm serenity and turbulent waves.

Next, three more totems emerged, each inscribed with designs representing earth, wind, and fire. They too were inserted into the ground. The carvings, drawn from Harry's knowledge of the Tauren tribes, carried a raw and primal beauty, full of strength.

"...Storm, Earth, Fire, hear my call!"

Raising his arms, Harry cried out. Suddenly, the mallow and sage before him burst into flames. Despite being fresh and green, their leaves burned fiercely, as if they had been dried for ages.

The dark green smoke didn't drift upward or follow the natural wind. Instead, it coiled around Harry's neck like a serpent, entering his nostrils.

In that moment, under the intoxicating influence of the smoke, Harry's consciousness slipped into a trance. The real world faded, replaced by shifting, kaleidoscopic colors that enveloped him.

He seemed to hear a deep, resonant hum, like the breathing of a giant. It was steady yet thunderous, overwhelming to mortal ears.

The vision lingered. By the time the mallow and sage had burned to ash, Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed before he finally opened his eyes.

He could sense the elements communicating—whispering through crashing waves, splitting lightning, and the brittle snap of dry branches.

Yet their vitality was faint, as though they had suffered a cataclysm in ancient times, leaving them deeply wounded and dormant ever since.

The magic Harry had previously performed was less a response from the elements themselves and more akin to the forceful manipulation seen in corrupt shamans.

"This... is going to be a monumental task…" Harry sighed deeply.

In Azeroth, such a crisis—where the elements of an entire world were weak to the point of dormancy—would have prompted him to seek help from the Earthen Ring, the shamanic organization dedicated to restoring balance and power to the elements.

But unfortunately, in the world of his birth, Harry suspected he was the only one who could shoulder this responsibility. His magical books had already hinted at the decline of wizards' power in this world.

What could one person achieve?

Even as a mage, Jaina's immense power wasn't enough to prevent Theramore from being obliterated before her eyes.

And what about him?

Looking down at his hands, Harry pondered. If he was to walk the shaman's path in this world and fulfill the vow he made on the day he became a shaman—to restore the elements and maintain their balance—he knew it would be a task far beyond the capability of any single individual.

Perhaps, like the Tauren shaman Muln Earthfury, who founded the Earthen Ring to protect the world and maintain elemental balance, he too would need to establish an organization here.

But such ambitions felt too distant for now.

Harry stood up.

After all, he was still a child. Few would take a child's words seriously, let alone follow their teachings.

—Perhaps it's time to try another approach?

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