Young Celestial Wizard [Celestial Grimoire, Harry Potter]

Harry took a deep breath and nodded to Fleur. "Okay, let's go make some magic."

"That's the spirit," Dumbledore smiled, falling into step beside them. McGonagall walked on Harry's other side, occasionally vanishing newspapers that seemed to multiply wherever Harry passed.

They walked past colorful stalls that had sprung up during lunch. A witch wearing a hat covered in paint splotches waved enthusiastically at passing artists, holding up bottles of swirling golden liquid. "Genuine Artist's Inspiration! Guaranteed to spark creativity or get your money back!"

"That's just sparkly water with a dash of pepperup potion," Fleur whispered, pulling Harry along. "Though the marketing is quite clever, isn't it?"

"Ah, reminds me of my youth," Dumbledore chuckled. "We used to call it 'Merlin's Miraculous Muse' back then, and it tasted suspiciously like gillywater."

A crowd had gathered around another vendor selling what looked like ordinary wooden chairs. As they passed, one of the chairs suddenly shot upward, lifting its occupant several feet into the air.

"Self-Adjusting Spectator Seats!" called the vendor. "They rise with your excitement! Perfect for watching the afternoon performances!"

Several excited children bounced on the chairs, making them bob up and down like corks in water. An elderly wizard floated past, sound asleep in his elevated seat while his wife tried unsuccessfully to coax him down.

"Oh, Filius would be all over those," McGonagall remarked dryly. "We'd never get him down from the sky during Quidditch."

The afternoon platform area hummed with anticipation - quite different from the contemplative silence that tradition apparently demanded during the Enchanted Painting round. Magical fireworks spelled out each artist's name as they performed, and a wizard in color-changing robes announced the presentations with theatrical flair.

"FRIENDS AND FELLOW ARTISTS!" The announcer's robes turned deep purple with silver stars. "For the first time at the Grand Exhibition, please welcome MASTER CHEN WEIMING!"

A figure stepped onto the platform that made Harry blink twice. Master Chen stood barely taller than Harry himself, with a long white beard that curled at the edges as if trying to form Chinese characters. He wore simple grey robes embroidered with silver thread that seemed to move of their own accord.

"At two hundred and ninety-three years old," the announcer continued enthusiastically, "Master Chen has spent centuries bringing stone to life! You're about to see why he's considered the best living sculptor in Asia!"

"Watch carefully, Harry," Dumbledore whispered. "Even I can't match the subtlety of his transfiguration work."

Master Chen raised his wand high in the air. Twelve blocks of marble floated upward, each one slowly beginning to shift and flow like water. The marble stretched and twisted, taking on impossible shapes that should have crumbled under their own weight. Chinese Dragons surfaced from the stone, scales individually detailed down to the smallest ridge, but the dragons weren't merely static sculptures - they moved with liquid grace, marble flowing and reforming with each motion.

The dragons began to dance through the air, leaving trails of crystalline dust that formed into birds mid-flight. Each creature moved independently yet in perfect harmony with the others, telling a story of seasons changing through their movements.

"Magnificent," Fleur breathed. "The way he makes stone flow like silk..."

"Right," Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "He doesn't affect people's emotions like you do, Harry. His work is all about technical skill, not that direct influence you have. So, focus on what you're best at."

A small witch with official-looking robes approached their group. "Mr. Potter? You're up after Master Rosewood. You'll need to get ready near the stage entrance. "

Harry stood, straightening his robes. The nervous butterflies from earlier had transformed into quiet determination.

"You've got this," Fleur whispered next to him.

Harry walked to the stage entrance alone, watching Master Chen's finale. The marble dragons had dissolved into a shower of crystalline butterflies that landed on delighted audience members before reforming into a perfect sphere. The crowd erupted in applause while the announcer's robes shifted to match the sparkling marble.

"ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR! And now, please welcome Master Rosewood, whose crystal transfigurations have graced magical galleries across Europe!"

A tall witch with silver hair took the stage. She conjured blocks of what looked like clear glass that melted and reformed into a miniature forest. Each tree grew and changed as if experiencing centuries in minutes, branches reaching toward the sky while crystal leaves sprouted and fell in surging waves.

Harry closed his eyes, focusing inward. Lightning sparked between his fingers as he prepared himself for the mentally exhausting task of using his Inner Eye to place chi points to guide the electricity. A soft meow made him look down - Chrysa had somehow found him again.

"Shouldn't you be with Nicolas and Perenelle?" Harry whispered, scratching behind her ears.

"AND NOW!" The announcer's voice boomed as Master Rosewood's crystal forest turned into ents that bowed and dissolved into the ground. "Esteemed guests, prepare yourselves for something truly unprecedented! The youngest participant in Exhibition history..."

Harry stepped onto the platform, azure flames already beginning to flow from his hands. The announcer's robes shifted to match the deep blue fire.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Harry stepped onto the platform, stretching out both hands. Lightning sparked between his fingers as his Inner Eye showed him the exact points in space where the electricity yearned to flow. Two streams of lightning extended outward, forming into humanoid shapes that crackled with barely contained power.

The announcer's voice dropped to an anticipatory whisper, "Young Mr. Potter begins with... wait, are those..."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the raw fury he had felt when those Slytherin boys had bullied him years ago. The helpless anger, the desire to fight back - he let those emotions fill him completely before carefully measuring out a portion into streams of dark red mist that began to flow through the air.

The lightning warriors circled each other, fists raised. Several audience members shifted uncomfortably as the emotional resonance reached them. A child in the front row clenched tiny fists, caught up in the reflected anger.

"What artistry!" The announcer's robes flickered between crimson and electric blue. "The raw emotion... I've never felt anything quite like..."

The warriors clashed. Each punch connected with thunderous impact, electricity arcing between points that Harry's Inner Eye had revealed just a moment before. He guided streams of azure flame into the shape of blood droplets, maintaining each one's position while simultaneously adjusting dozens of chi-points that kept the lightning figures stable.

"HOW AMAZING!" The announcer jumped as a particularly vicious uppercut sent one warrior staggering. "Such primitive violence! Such precision!"

Harry felt sweat beginning to form on his forehead. Maintaining this many elements at once demanded absolute concentration. One slip in his chi-point placement would cause the lightning to follow its natural path to ground. A moment's lapse in emotional focus would break the resonance he had carefully built.

Harry drew a deep breath, pushing aside the burning strain in his arms. Time to evolve the battle. New streams of azure flame flowed from his fingertips, forming into swords and shields. The warriors grasped these weapons as Harry let the memory of his duel with the marble serpents fill him - the hidden pride of standing his ground, the thrill of matching strength against strength and winning.

Bright blue mist began to fly through the air, carrying echoes of that warrior's pride. In the audience, several people straightened unconsciously, heads lifting as the emotion reached them. A young witch near the front actually stood up, hand reaching for a wand that wasn't there.

"INCREDIBLE!" The announcer's robes shifted to match Harry's azure flames. "The primitive brawl transforms into medieval muggle combat! But wait... do you feel that? The very air thrums with..."

The warriors clashed again, fiery steel ringing against fiery steel. Harry's Inner Eye worked overtime, tracking each point where lightning needed to flow, each spot where flame should flare. The drain on his focus intensified - maintaining this many simultaneous effects felt like trying to hold back a tidal wave with bare hands.

A thin trickle of sweat ran down his back. The chi points in the air were beginning to waver - he could feel the lightning straining against his control, eager to follow its natural path. But he couldn't stop here. Not yet.

Gritting his teeth, Harry refined divine energy from faith. Golden light began to pulse outward, forming the first hints of a larger backdrop. The strain on his mind doubled instantly. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision as he fought to maintain control of all four powers simultaneously - lightning, flame, mist and divine light.

A cool breeze suddenly swept across the platform, carrying away some of the heat that had begun to overwhelm Harry. He seized the moment of clarity, and azure flames twisted into a bow in one warrior's hands while the other ducked behind a barrier of flame.

The strain of maintaining so many elements at once made Harry's arms shake. Each new chi point he established felt like lifting a boulder.

"HISTORY CONTINUES!" The announcer's voice cracked with excitement. "Friends and fellow artists, witness the dawn of ranged combat!"

Harry immersed himself in memories of hunting as an eagle - the predatory focus, the thrill of the chase. Grey mist tinged with silver began to flow, carrying that primal hunter's instinct to the audience. Several people leaned forward in their seats, eyes locked on the archer drawing back a bow of crackling electricity.

Lightning arrows split the air, leaving trails of blue-white energy. The defensive warrior rolled and dodged, retaliating with throwing knives made of concentrated flame. Each near miss sent sparks cascading across the divine energy backdrop, which had begun forming scenes of ancient hunting grounds.

"Such control!" Master Chen's voice carried clearly from the side. "The boy predicts where lightning wishes to go! Even I cannot..."

Harry barely heard him. Blood pounded in his ears as he fought to maintain everything at once. The chi points grew more unstable with each passing second. His Inner Eye burned from constant use, trying to track dozens of possible paths the lightning might take.

A sudden gust of wind brought the scent of rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance - real thunder, not from his performance.

Harry looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, drawn by some instinct he couldn't name. Lightning flickered between clouds, and in that moment everything changed. The world seemed to slow down as something became clear to him while blue sparks reflected off his green eyes – of the very nature of lightning itself.

His painter's eye saw the sky as a massive canvas where electricity painted luminous brushstrokes. Each branch of lightning followed natural laws he suddenly understood with perfect clarity. The Buddhist teachings about flow and resistance merged with his knowledge of meridians, creating an entirely new perspective.

"What is he..." The announcer's voice trailed off as Harry raised his right arm, two fingers pointing skyward while his left hand maintained the fighting figures below.

Harry felt rather than saw the confused looks from the audience. Even Master Chen had fallen silent, watching intently. None of them could see what Harry saw now - the invisible channels of energy connecting earth and sky, the positive and negative charges seeking balance.

A small bolt of blue lightning shot from Harry's fingers into the clouds above. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then real lightning answered his call, a massive bolt of natural electricity that Harry caught and guided through his body. The power should have overwhelmed him completely, but in this enlightened moment, directing it felt as natural as breathing.

The fighting figures below transformed, growing to tower over the audience as Harry fed them with raw power from the sky. The warrior on the left became a wizard wielding a staff crackling with natural lightning. The one on the right evolved into a witch surrounded by orbiting spheres of pure energy.

"A THOUSAND WANDS!" The announcer stumbled backward. "Is he... is he actually controlling..."

Harry reached deeper into his enlightened state, drawing more lightning from above. The raw power flowed through pathways he had always known existed but never truly understood until now. Each arc of electricity became a brushstroke in three dimensions, painting with pure energy across space itself.

Divine light spread outward, forming a miniature landscape around the dueling figures. Small golden mountains rose from the platform while streams of energy carved valleys between them. The wizard and witch moved through this space, trading blows that made the air crackle.

The wizard spun his staff in a wide arc, sending three precisely aimed bolts toward the witch. She caught the first two with her orbiting spheres, but the third clipped her shoulder in a blast of sparks. The witch retaliated by slamming her hands together, creating a wave of force that sent the wizard stumbling backward.

"Impossible..." Master Chen's whisper carried across the sudden silence. "The boy paints with heaven's fire..."

The world had become a canvas of pure energy. Every flutter of wind, every roll of thunder added new elements to his art. The enlightenment deepened as he realized lightning wasn't just a force to be guided - it was the physical expression of nature seeking balance.

The witch raised both hands, pulling streams of electricity from the storm above. The wizard met this attack with his own connection to the sky, creating a deadlock of crackling energy between them. Light from their clash reflected off the divine backdrop, casting strange shadows across the audience's upturned faces.

"Everyone," the announcer's voice shook with awe, "I... I have no words..."

The deadlock shattered as both figures leaped backward. Harry created streams of Soul Resonance Mist that flowed around the witch and wizard, letting the audience feel the pride and joy of magical combat. Several children bounced so high in their Self-Adjusting Seats that worried parents had to cast sticking charms.

The witch's orbiting spheres began to spin faster, each one now crackling with captured lightning. The wizard planted his staff into the ground, sending waves of electricity rippling through the divine-light landscape. Small golden trees sprouted and withered in seconds as power surged past them.

A bolt of natural lightning struck between the combatants, and Harry split it perfectly between both figures. The witch shaped her half into a spear of blue energy while the wizard formed a shield that emitted crackling sparks.

Harry felt sweat running down his back, but the enlightened state made everything flow naturally. Each gesture guided both lightning and divine light exactly where they needed to be. The witch's spear shattered against the wizard's shield, sending fragments of electricity raining down that Harry caught and reformed into birds of lightning that circled the battlefield.

Thunder boomed overhead as Harry prepared for the finale. The witch and wizard raised their hands simultaneously, drawing power from the storm-dark sky. Harry let his own emotions flow freely into the mist - anticipation, wonder, and the pure exhilaration of creation itself.

The air grew heavy with power as both figures gathered energy from above. Lightning birds scattered, dissolving into pure electricity that flowed back into the growing pillars of thunder. The divine light landscape pulsed in rhythm with each thunderclap, mountains and valleys shifting like waves on a golden sea.

"What power..." The announcer breathed. "Everyone, shield your eyes!"

The witch spun her orbiting spheres into a tight spiral while the wizard's staff blazed with captured storm-light. Harry guided fresh streams of natural lightning down through his body, splitting the raw energy between both figures. The strain made his vision blur, but he pushed through it, refusing to let the enlightened state slip away.

Streams of multicolored mist swirled through the air - bright yellow triumph, deep blue determination, silver wonder - each emotion carefully measured from Harry's own heart. The audience swayed as these feelings touched their souls. Several Self-Adjusting Seats rose so high they nearly collapsed.

"NOW!" Harry's voice rang out clear and strong despite his exhaustion.

Both figures unleashed everything at once. Lightning met lightning in a blast that turned night to day. The divine light backdrop exploded into a shower of golden sparks that rained down over the awestruck crowd. As the light faded, the witch and wizard stood facing each other, powers spent but undefeated.

They bowed to each other just as the first drops of rain began to fall.

For a moment, absolute silence filled the air. Then the storm broke properly, rain pouring down as the audience erupted in thunderous applause. The witch and wizard dissolved into pure light, fading away as Harry lowered his trembling arms.

"EXTRAORDINARY!" The announcer's robes had turned pure white from the intensity of the final blast. "Never in three centuries of Exhibition history... Friends and fellow artists, what we witnessed today..."

Harry swayed on his feet. The enlightened state slipped away, leaving him utterly drained. Maintaining so many things at once while channeling natural lightning had pushed him far beyond his limits. Black spots danced across his vision as the platform seemed to tilt beneath him.

Strong hands caught Harry before he could fall. Through blurry vision he saw Dumbledore's concerned face, heard McGonagall casting a charm to keep him dry.

"That was quite the performance," Dumbledore said softly, guiding Harry toward the platform steps. "Though perhaps a bit more ambitious than we discussed."

The applause continued even as Harry descended. Master Chen stepped forward and bowed deeply. "You have shown this old man something entirely new today."

"The judging will commence in half an hour!" The announcer's voice barely carried over the cheering crowd. "Please proceed to the reception hall to escape this unexpected weather!"

Harry tried to take a step and stumbled. His legs felt like jelly after maintaining such precise control for so long. Fleur appeared at his side, helping Dumbledore support him.

"You absolute madman," she whispered, grinning. "Using real lightning! The other contestants look ready to faint themselves!"

Indeed, many of the waiting artists stared at Harry with expressions ranging from awe to disbelief. Even Maurice Moreau seemed lost for words, distractedly touching his silver beard as he watched Harry pass.

"Hospital wing first," McGonagall said firmly. "The judges can wait."

Harry glanced up at the balcony through the falling rain. Nicolas and Perenelle stood at the railing, beaming with pride as they applauded. Despite his exhaustion, warmth bloomed in Harry's chest at the sight of his family's proud faces. Even Chrysa had risen from her cushioned perch to wave her paw, as if claiming credit for Harry's performance.

"Come along now," McGonagall said, a tremor in her voice she couldn't quite hide. She always worried when he pushed too hard. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a subtle guide towards the tent.

He nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile, but even that felt strained. 

The tent flap opened. The medical area wasn't calm, but a quiet kind of busy as healers treated minor injuries from other performances. A witch nursed burns from an enchanted flame sculpture while a wizard had his eyebrows regrown after a mishap during an earlier performance.

"Sit here," Dumbledore guided Harry to a bed. "Madame Rousseau will want to check you for magical exhaustion."

A plump healer hurried over, swishing her wand to start casting diagnostic charms. "What on earth were you thinking to be doing that at your age? Wandless at that!"

"That it would look amazing?" Harry suggested weakly, earning a snort from Fleur and a stern look from McGonagall.

"Drink this," Madame Rousseau pressed a smoky blue potion into Harry's hands. "And this one. And... oh yes, definitely this one too."

Harry downed the potions in quick succession, grimacing at the taste. The first felt like ice spreading through his veins, the second burned like pepper, and the third fizzed uncomfortably all the way down.

"The scoring ceremony begins in fifteen minutes," Fleur said, glancing at a floating clock near the ceiling. "Will he be okay to attend?"

Madame Rousseau waved her wand once more. "The potions need time to work properly. He should rest for at least-"

"I'm going," Harry said, pushing himself up. The room spun alarmingly but he managed to stay upright. "I have to know how I did."

"Stubborn child," McGonagall muttered, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Just like your father."

"Perhaps a compromise?" Dumbledore suggested. "Harry can attend the ceremony, but must return here immediately afterward for proper rest."

"And you'll take another round of potions before bed," Madame Rousseau added firmly.

They made their way to the grand amphitheater where the scoring would take place. Floating crystals displayed highlights from the day's performances while the announcer, whose robes had finally settled on a shifting rainbow pattern, directed people to their seats.

"Witches and Wizards!" The announcer's voice boomed through the amphitheater. "Welcome to our first day's scoring ceremony! Today we saw twelve of our fifty plus contestants perform in Enchanted Painting and Living Sculpture. Tomorrow we'll continue with more artists, followed by Magical Music and Dynamic Dance presentations later this week! The collaborative phase begins next week, and after that the permanent exhibition pieces! But for now… our three distinguished judges will evaluate both morning and afternoon performances as a whole."

Harry sat between Fleur and Dumbledore in the front row, still feeling light-headed from over-exertion. The floating crystals showed highlights from today's performances across both Enchanted Painting and Living Sculpture categories.

"We begin with technical execution," announced Madame Laurent, a severe-looking witch with steel-grey hair. "For today's Enchanted Painting category..."

Numbers blazed above the crystals. Harry's azure flame paintings earned him fourth place in technical execution, while Master Rosewood's crystal-enhanced watercolors took third. Maurice Moreau's historically accurate scenes claimed second, and an elderly Japanese witch Harry hadn't met secured first place with her living ink landscapes.

"For artistic merit," declared Master Woirat in deep purple robes. The scores shifted - Harry's emotion-imbued paintings rose to second place, just behind the Japanese witch's work.

When magical innovation scores appeared, Harry's unique combination of flame, lightning, and Soul Resonance Mist earned him the number one spot. Several artists muttered appreciatively at the unprecedented technique.

"Moving to Living Sculpture," Madame Laurent continued. The crystals now displayed Master Chen's flowing marble dragons alongside Harry's lightning duel. "Technical execution scores..."

Master Chen's centuries of experience showed clearly as he claimed first place. Harry's precise control over multiple elements earned him second, while Master Rosewood's crystal forest secured third.

"Artistic merit," Master Woirat announced with clear excitement. The numbers appeared - Harry's evolution of combat through history, enhanced by genuine emotional resonance, earned number one. Even Master Chen nodded approvingly at this result.

"And finally," spoke Master Aurelius, gripping tightly on his walking stick, "magical innovation." He paused dramatically. "Never in three centuries have we seen natural lightning bent to artistic purpose. Perfect marks to young Mr. Potter, with special recognition for his unique emotion magic."

"Remember everyone," the announcer added as excited whispers filled the amphitheater, "tomorrow brings our first round of Magical Music and Dynamic Dance presentations! Today's artists will return for the collaborative phase next week!"

"Harry!" Fleur jumped up from her seat, grabbing his arm. "Perfect marks in innovation! And first place in artistic merit for sculpture! This is incredible!"

Harry couldn't stop grinning. The exhaustion from earlier seemed to evaporate as excitement bubbled up inside him. "Did you see the judges' faces when the natural lightning started flowing? And when the emotions reached them?"

"My boy," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly, "you've certainly made this old wizard proud today."

"James and Lily would have loved this," McGonagall whispered, dabbing at her eyes with a white handkerchief. "Such magnificent magic..."

Master Chen approached their group, moving with grace despite his advanced age. "Young Potter," he bowed slightly. "You have shown this one that true art knows no boundaries of age or tradition. I would be honored to discuss technique with you during the collaborative phase."

"I- thank you!" Harry bounced on his feet. "Your marble dragons, they were just… wow. How did you get them to flow so perfectly? And each scale moving on its own? It was breathtaking!"

"Ah, but your lightning birds..." Master Chen smiled warmly. "Three centuries of sculpting, yet never have I seen such control over lightning..."

"Mr. Potter." Maurice Moreau interrupted, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I owe you an apology. My behavior this morning was... disgraceful. I allowed prejudice to blind me to true talent."

Harry narrowed his eyes just the slightest - the apology came only after he had proven himself spectacular. Still, he remembered what Perenelle always said about grace in victory. "Thank you, Mr. Moreau. Your painting showed great attention to detail."

"Perhaps..." Moreau hesitated. "Would you consider collaborating during next week's phase? Your magic combined with my historical accuracy could create something unique."

Before Harry could respond, Madame Rousseau appeared through the crowd. "Mr. Potter needs rest. The potions can only do so much without proper sleep."

"Of course," Master Chen nodded sagely. "We shall have time to discuss technique later. Rest well, young artist."

"But I want to stay!" Harry protested, even as a yawn escaped. "Everyone's talking about combinations for next week and-"

"Bed," McGonagall said firmly. "You've done more than enough for one day."

"The collaborative discussions can wait," Dumbledore added, steering Harry toward the exit. "Though I must say, watching you create art with lightning from the skies was quite the sight."