Young Celestial Wizard [Celestial Grimoire, Harry Potter]

Fleur leaned forward in her seat as Harry stepped onto the Exhibition platform. After watching him create those stunning azure paintings that morning, she'd wondered how he planned to approach the sculpture round. Harry's aunt McGonagall sat beside her, fingers tight around her wand, while Albus Dumbledore watched with keen interest. Her mother had already seen Harry's control over blue flames earlier, but this would be something entirely different.

The first streams of lightning sparked between Harry's fingers, and Fleur found herself holding her breath. The electricity formed into warrior shapes that moved with a grace she'd never imagined possible for wandless magic. Each strike between them sent actual thunder rolling across the platform.

"How is he..." her mother's usual composure cracked. "That level of control over lightning without a wand..."

Red mist began flowing through the air, and sudden anger flooded through Fleur. She gripped her armrests as the foreign emotion made her heart race. All around them, people shifted restlessly, caught in the same surge of feeling.

Dark clouds gathered overhead with unnatural speed. A gust of wind carried the first hints of rain, and Harry looked up at the sky. Something changed in his expression that made Fleur's skin prickle with anticipation.

"Albus," McGonagall's whisper held raw fear. "He wouldn't..."

Harry raised his right hand toward the storm-dark sky, two fingers extended. Blue lightning shot upward from his fingertips.

The entire audience froze.

Real lightning answered his call.

The massive bolt of electricity struck Harry's outstretched hand. Pure power coursed through his body into the fighting figures, transforming them into towering forms of crackling energy. The witch and wizard grew until they dwarfed the platform.

The crowd surged to their feet as another lightning bolt split the sky. Fleur barely noticed she'd stood up too, eyes locked on Harry's body directing raw power from the heavens. The Self-Adjusting Seats rose higher and higher with each display of magic.

"Impossible..." McGonagall breathed. "In all my years..."

"Not even Morgan le Fay dared command the sky itself," Dumbledore murmured, all pretense of twinkling eyes gone. "This shouldn't be possible without decades of study."

The giant lightning figures clashed above the platform, sending waves of electricity crackling through the air. Harry's green eyes blazed as he commanded streams of golden light between the combatants, creating an ethereal landscape that pulsed with each thunderclap.

"Un prodige absolu!" A French wizard behind them shouted. "The next Merlin stands before us!"

"Der Himmel selbst gehorcht ihm!" Another voice called out. "Heaven itself obeys!"

"Like Thunderbird made flesh..." A Native American witch whispered. "The old stories come alive..."

Heat crept up Fleur's cheeks as she watched Harry direct another bolt from above. The raw power flowing through him should have been terrifying, yet he moved with absolute certainty, as if he'd always known how to command lightning from the clouds.

"Minerva," her mother's voice shook. "Your ward... he's..."

"I don't know," McGonagall answered, dabbing at her eyes. "Sweet Merlin, I don't know how..."

Streams of silver mist intertwined around the combatants, and Fleur felt a surge of pride that wasn't her own. The entire audience swayed as one, caught in the emotional resonance. A child bounced so high in his Self-Adjusting Seat that his father had to grab him mid-air.

"Just seven years old..." An elderly witch shook her head in disbelief. "Morgana's grace, look at what he's become."

Fleur blinked. The witch spoke true - Harry stood tall on the platform, green eyes blazing as he conducted lightning from above. He looked nothing like the small boy he should've been when she'd met at Maison Capenoir. If she hadn't known better, she might have guessed him twelve or thirteen.

Blue mist spiraled outward, carrying echoes of battle-joy. Several audience members drew wands without thinking, caught up in the shared emotion. McGonagall vanished three accidentally cast sparks before they could cause trouble.

Thunder boomed as Harry raised both hands to the storm. The giant combatants above the platform mirrored his movements, drawing fresh lightning from the clouds. Golden light spread beneath them, forming mountains and valleys that shifted with each thunderclap.

"This can't be real," Fleur whispered. "Nobody can just... reach up and take lightning from the sky."

"And yet..." Dumbledore's voice held wonder she'd never heard before. "Young Harry seems to have forgotten that particular impossibility."

The giant witch and wizard clashed above the platform, each strike releasing waves of natural lightning that Harry caught and reformed into birds of pure electricity. The audience gasped as these lightning birds swooped through the air, leaving trails of crackling energy.

Yellow mist carried triumph while deep blue brought determination. The crowd swayed under waves of emotion that felt more real than any spell Fleur had encountered. She found herself gripping the edge of her seat, heart racing with borrowed excitement.

"Look at his eyes," her mother breathed. "Such focus..."

Harry stood firm as rain began to fall, each drop seeming to burn up before they could hit his body. The storm above grew stronger, yet every bolt of lightning answered his call with perfect precision.

McGonagall reached for Dumbledore's arm. "Albus, the strain..."

Sweat ran down Harry's face as he gathered power for what felt like a finale. The giant figures rose higher, drawing more lightning from the clouds while golden light pulsed beneath them.

"NOW!" Harry's voice rang clear despite the thunder.

The witch and wizard unleashed everything at once. Lightning met lightning in a blast that turned night to day. The golden landscape shattered, raining down sparks that felt like warm sunlight on Fleur's skin. A tingling sensation spread through her body, and the lingering headache she'd had from the brightness of the lightning vanished completely.

"What..." An ancient wizard behind them exclaimed. "The pain... it's gone!"

Similar exclamations erupted throughout the crowd. A witch rubbed her pregnant belly with wide-eyed surprise on her face. A wizard touched his throat in wonder. The rain washed over them all, yet nobody moved to shield themselves - too caught up in the miracle they'd witnessed.

The giant figures bowed to each other and dissolved into pure light. Harry lowered his trembling arms as thunder rolled one final time.

Absolute silence filled the air.

Then the storm broke properly, and with it came applause that shook the very ground. Fleur barely noticed she was clapping too, eyes fixed on Harry who now swayed dangerously on his feet. Even exhausted, he radiated something... different. Something that made her breath catch.

"Magnifique..." she whispered, watching Dumbledore catch Harry before he could fall.

The Boy-Who-Lived had become something more today. Something legends were made of.

oo0ooOoo0oo

From their private balcony, Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel watched Harry create art with lightning from the sky. Chrysa paced beside them, tail swishing as she tracked every movement of her bonded companion.

"Remember when we thought teaching him more about magical painting would be a nice, safe hobby?" Perenelle squeezed Nicolas's hand. "Now look at him."

"Safe?" Nicolas chuckled. "The moment he started producing those azure flames of his, we should have known better."

The massive lightning figures clashed above the platform while streams of multicolored mist carried waves of emotion through the crowd. Nicolas touched his chest, remembering how Harry's divine healing had eased centuries of accumulated pain.

"He's going beyond healing now," Perenelle whispered. "The way he moves... as if lightning answered to him alone."

"Like the old stories of Zeus," Nicolas nodded. "But I have my doubts even that legendary wizard commanded the sky like Harry does."

Golden light spread beneath the fighting figures, and Nicolas felt tears well up in his eyes. After seven centuries of studying magic, their ward had shown him something entirely new. Something that should have been impossible.

"We'll need to protect him," Perenelle said softly. "Once word of this spreads..."

"We'll do what we can," Nicolas nodded, watching Harry direct another bolt from above. "Between us and Albus... we'll find a way."

"The world will want him now more than ever." Perenelle leaned forward as Harry gathered power for his finale. "Not just for healing, but for this..."

The witch and wizard above the platform unleashed a blast that turned storm to daylight. When the golden sparks rained down, gasps of wonder rose from below as people discovered themselves cured of various ailments.

"Did you feel that?" Nicolas touched his shoulder where an old curse-wound had ached for centuries and now felt much better even if it wasn't fully healed. "Even after his first healing, he still..."

"Found more pain to ease," Perenelle finished. She watched Harry sway on his feet as Dumbledore rushed to catch him. "Our remarkable boy."

Chrysa let out a small roar of pride that made several people below look up. Nicolas smiled as Harry glanced toward their balcony, exhausted but triumphant.

"Come," Perenelle stood. "Let's go make sure he hasn't completely drained himself."

oo0ooOoo0oo

Mathilde Faremora gripped her enchanted quill so tightly it nearly snapped. The ICW had sent her to investigate claims of soul-based emotional manipulation. Instead, she watched Harry Potter command lightning from the heavens while casting what was speculated to be the very soul-based magic that had been reported.

"Wandless..." she muttered, scribbling frantically. "Multiple magical disciplines simultaneously... at age seven..."

The Supreme Mugwump stood near the platform, watching his ward with an expression she had never seen on Albus Dumbledore's face - pure amazement. That alone told her how unprecedented this display truly was.

When golden sparks rained down and people began exclaiming about miraculous healing, Mathilde's quill flew across the parchment. Mass healing through artistic expression? The implications staggered her. Every magical government would want to study this, to understand it, to...

She stopped writing.

To control it.

The Boy-Who-Lived title seemed almost quaint now. This child had just demonstrated potential that rivaled or surpassed the greatest wizards in history. And he had done it through art, of all things.

"The Council must be informed immediately," she whispered, watching Harry collapse into Dumbledore's arms. "Everything changes after today."

Mathilde watched Dumbledore guide Harry toward the medical tent. The Supreme Mugwump had already wielded astonishing influence before this display. Now... she shook her head in disbelief. The political landscape would shift dramatically.

A seven-year-old who could channel lightning from the sky. Who could heal with golden light. Who could make thousands of people feel whatever emotion he desired. And this prodigy called Albus Dumbledore 'grandpa'.

If the rumors proved true about Harry Potter healing cursed wounds... Mathilde's quill trembled. The combination of Dumbledore's current power and his ward's growing abilities would create an insurmountable advantage. The Supreme Mugwump could offer healing to allies while denying it to opponents.

The older Council members still spoke of Dumbledore's duel with Grindelwald as if it happened yesterday. A prodigy who had grown into a legend, then surpassed even that. Each decade brought new achievements, new innovations in magic. The Americans had tried to paint him as past his prime during the Supreme Mugwump selection, but anyone who worked with Dumbledore knew better - he kept growing stronger.

And now this.

Mathilde glanced at the medical tent where Harry Potter rested. The boy had already changed the political landscape once by supposedly surviving the Killing Curse. Now he commanded the sky itself while wielding magic that shouldn't exist. The implications made her head spin.

"First the Philosopher's Stone through Nicolas Flamel," she whispered. "Then the Supreme Mugwump position despite fierce opposition. And now... a ward who might become the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself."

The powerful factions would see this as confirmation of all they had feared - Dumbledore gathering too much power. But what could they do? Nobody else could offer healing of cursed wounds. Nobody else had a seven-year-old apprentice who turned lightning into art.

The Council would demand action, but what options remained? Demanding oversight of Harry Potter would only push Dumbledore to assert his authority as Supreme Mugwump. Any attempt to separate the boy from his guardian would face opposition from not just Britain, but the Flamels as well.

And now the wider magical world had witnessed this display. Artists, scholars, and politicians alike would seek Harry Potter's attention. The Americans might try to lure him with promises of special training at Ilvermorny. The Russians would likely attempt to arrange marriage contracts through old families. Who knows what the other nations would try?

"The British won now," Mathilde sighed, rolling up her report. "Between Dumbledore, this prodigy child who commands lightning, and their close connection to the Flamels…. the balance of power shifts completely."

A chill ran down Mathilde's spine as darker possibilities popped in her mind. Not everyone would attempt diplomatic solutions. Some might view assassination as the simplest path to preventing this shift in power. And the dark wizarding families who specialized in curses... they would not welcome someone who could undo generations of carefully crafted magic.

She glanced again at the medical tent where Dumbledore stood guard. The Supreme Mugwump's power alone deterred most threats, but this display would draw attention from those desperate or mad enough to try anyway.

"The Council must move quickly," Mathilde muttered, adding a final note to her report. "Before someone decides that a seven-year-old who commands lightning and heals dark curses poses too great a threat to ignore."