Chapter 6: Passionate Flames
Harry waved goodbye to Tonks, Chiara and Penny, yelling "Thanks for helping!" as they walked away. Once they were gone, he held out his palm and concentrated. The mist gathered much faster now, forming a smooth ball in just two seconds.
"Better," he muttered, studying the swirling grey sphere. "But not good enough."
The talk with Tonks and the others had helped a lot. Penny's idea about treating the mist like painting made so much sense - he just had to picture what he wanted, like drawing but with scary fog instead of paint. And Tonks was right about starting small. Even though he really wanted to make giant scary things right away, learning to make a proper ball first was probably smart.
Harry watched the misty sphere hover above his palm. It was kind of pretty, in a spooky way. The way it swirled reminded him of the moving staircases, always shifting but staying in the same basic shape. Maybe if he practiced enough, he could make the mist move like that on purpose?
His mind boggled at what he could do - if a little bit of mist could scare those mean Slytherins so much, what would a giant misty dragon do? Or maybe a nundu? He'd seen pictures of those in Grandpa's books. They were basically giant leopards that breathed disease, which was super scary. If he could make his mist look like one of those...
Still... he was getting better. The first time he made the mist, it had just gone everywhere. Now he could at least make shapes, even if they weren't very good ones yet. Maybe next time he could try making a cube, or...
His green eyes darkened and strange words appeared in his mind, making him freeze.
[Bending Arts (Firebending) - Avatar: The Last Airbender] – 100CP, 100CP left
You were born with the ability to manipulate the element of your nation, and have been trained in its use. The Bending Arts differ from element to element, but always involve a combination of physical movements designed to evoke that element, focused with the will of the Bender. Bending an element provides substantial control over it, allowing you to move it, shape it, and direct it, though the exact nature of each depends on the individual element. It should be noted, however, that you cannot actually create an element - though Firebenders can transform their body heat into a raging inferno and Airbenders can make the breath from their lungs into a gale, Waterbenders and Earthbenders must have a source of their element to Bend.
The description that followed made Harry's eyes go wide. This was just like when he got his mist and painting talent! He'd learned by now that other kids probably didn't get special abilities like this. Even Tonks, who could change how she looked, was born that way like he was with his Innate Animagus ability. This was different - this was his own special thing. It was probably a perk of being the Boy-Who-Lived…
He read the description carefully this time, not wanting to miss anything important like he had before. The mention of '100 CP' was weird - he still didn't know what CP meant, but it had to be important if it could give him such amazing things. Maybe it stood for 'Cool Powers'? That made sense to his mind.
Carefully looking over the different types of bending described, Harry felt absolutely certain that fire was the best choice. What good was air? You couldn't even see it! And water? That was just silly - anyone could splash someone with water. Earth might be useful, but you needed actual rocks and dirt around. That would be useless when he was flying as an eagle.
But fire... fire was different. The description said he could make it from his own body heat, which meant he'd always have fire available. And… and maybe he could combine it with his mist somehow? A giant dragon made of fear-mist that could also breathe real fire would be absolutely amazing!
The moment Harry accepted the new power, pain exploded through every part of him. He collapsed onto the bridge, biting back a scream. It felt like someone was drawing lines inside his whole body with burning hot needles, but a hundred times worse than when he'd scraped his knee last week.
"Ow ow ow," he whimpered, curling into a ball. The burning started in his belly, spreading out like someone was drawing a map with fire under his skin. It went everywhere - up his back, down his legs, through his arms, even into his fingers and toes. His head felt funny too, like something hot was drawing lines inside his skull.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus past the pain. He could feel the burning paths connecting to each other, making a huge web through his whole body. Some spots, where the lines crossed, felt extra thick and warm - like having tiny suns inside him. The biggest one was in his belly, right where the burning had started.
"It's like... like a tree," he muttered through clenched teeth. "But inside out."
The main trunk was in his middle, with big branches going up and down. Smaller branches spread everywhere else, with the tiniest ones reaching all the way to his fingertips and toes. He could feel special paths leading to his palms and the bottoms of his feet, and even one that went right to the middle of his forehead.
Just when Harry thought he couldn't take anymore, the burning changed. Now it felt warm and nice, like drinking hot chocolate after flying in the cold. The paths that had hurt so much now felt... right. Like they'd always been there, just waiting to wake up.
"Wicked," Harry whispered, carefully sitting up. His whole body felt different - stronger, but not just in his muscles. It was like someone had taken all his insides and rearranged them to work better. He could feel the energy flowing through all those new paths, gathering in the spots where they crossed.
Harry quickly undid the clasp of his outer robe, letting it fall around him as he pulled up his shirt. His skin looked normal, but something felt different underneath. Pressing his fingers against his stomach, he could feel that his muscles were harder, more defined. Not big and bulky like the seventh-year students who practiced dueling, but definitely stronger than before.
The warm paths seemed to start right where his fingers were touching, spreading out like a spider web through his whole body. When he focused on them, they felt like... like magic, but different. Not the cold tingly feeling he got when using his mist, or the fuzzy warmth of transforming into an eagle. This was more like having tiny lightning bolts under his skin, but friendly ones that wanted to help him.
He remembered reading about blood vessels in one of Madam Pomfrey's books when he was bored - these vessels felt similar, but instead of blood they carried... energy? Power? Whatever it was, it made him feel stronger, more balanced. Like his body was a perfectly tuned instrument instead of just muscles and bones thrown together.
Taking an experimental jump, his eyes widened when he went higher than ever before. He did a little spin in mid-air, amazed at how natural it felt. His human body just knew exactly how to move, like how he instinctively knew how to use his wings and talons in eagle form.
This new flexibility and strength could be really useful if he had to fight. If he could move like this while using his mist ability, he'd be much harder to catch. And once he figured out how to use fire...
Harry grinned, imagining himself doing cool flips while shooting flames and scary mist at anyone who tried to hurt him. But first, he needed to practice. A lot. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he took a deep breath and settled into a stance that somehow felt right - feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. His body just knew this was how it should be, like how he instinctively knew how to fly as an eagle.
He punched forward hesitantly, but nothing happened. Harry frowned as he tried another punch. Something wasn't quite right. The energy was there, pooling in his core like a warm lake, but when he tried to direct it through those new pathways to his hands, it just... meandered. Like trying to pour honey uphill. He could feel it wanting to move, trying to rush through those channels under his skin, but there was no force behind it.
"It's like..." Harry muttered, focusing on the sensation, "like when the castle fountains got blocked with leaves. The water was there, but it couldn't flow properly."
He closed his eyes, concentrating on that warm energy in his core. The paths were there, clearly mapped through his body. The energy was there too, ready to be used. But something was missing - some kind of push to get it moving fast enough to become fire.
After a few more attempts, Harry sat down cross-legged on the bridge to think. Any flames coming out were tiny at most, and it somehow like when Aunt Min tried painting that one time. She'd gotten all the colors right, but the painting looked... empty. Not alive like his paintings were. Was that what was happening here?
The knowledge bubbled up again, clearer this time. Firebending needed emotional fuel - either the explosive force of rage and hatred, or the steady burn of passion and drive. Harry considered this carefully. Rage would be easier, maybe. He had plenty to be angry about - those mean Slytherins, the Death Eater who hurt Draco, being surrounded by people stronger than him…
But anger and hate sounded like what dark wizards used. Grandpa always said dark wizards let their hate control them, and Harry definitely didn't want that. But what was he passionate about?
Well, that was easy - painting! Nothing made him happier than sitting with his easel, watching his imagination come to life on the canvas.
Harry stood up, remembering how it felt to finish a really good painting. The joy of creating something beautiful, of making exactly what he pictured in his head. He took that feeling, let it fill him up like sunshine, and punched forward.
A stream of orange-red flames burst from his fist, way bigger than before! Harry laughed in delight, immediately trying again. This time he managed to make the flames dance a little before they disappeared.
"This is so cool!" he exclaimed to no one in particular, throwing more fire punches. Each one came easier than the last as he noticed something interesting - the energy only flowed when he moved. Standing still made the power stagnate, but every punch or kick helped guide it along those special paths under his skin.
After a particularly good punch, Harry finally felt it - the energy flowing smoothly from his core, through his arm, and right to that special spot in his palm. It felt natural, like water flowing downhill instead of being pushed.
But after about two minutes of constant practice, Harry had to stop. His arms felt like jelly and he was breathing hard, even though his regular magic felt completely fine. The warm energy pool in his core that had felt so full before was now nearly empty.
Drawing one last deep breath, Harry thrust out his palm. A long burst of orange-red flames shot towards the open sky, way stronger than his previous attempts. The fire felt warm and alive, powered by his passion of creation.
"I should show Grandpa!" Harry exclaimed, bouncing on his toes despite his tired arms. He transformed into his eagle form and took off, riding the warm afternoon thermals up to the Headmaster's Tower.
With a loud screech of greeting, Harry swooped through the open window and landed next to Fawkes on his golden perch. The phoenix trilled back a gentle melody that made Harry's tired muscles feel better instantly. He bobbed his feathered head at Fawkes and made eagle sounds back, pretending they were having a proper conversation.
After a moment, Harry hopped off the perch and changed back to human form, grinning up at Dumbledore who was watching him with twinkling eyes from behind his desk.
"Grandpa! Grandpa! Look what I can do now!" Harry took a quick stance, focusing on his passion for painting, and punched forward. A small burst of flames shot from his fist, carefully aimed away from any of the delicate silver instruments scattered around the office.
"And not just that! I was just at the Covered Bridge and met these three Hufflepuff girls! They helped me with my mist spell - oh! Don't worry, I didn't use it on anyone!" Harry added quickly, seeing Dumbledore's expression change. "I just wanted to practice making shapes with it. Look!"
Harry held up his palm, concentrating for a moment. A ball of grey mist formed quickly, hovering steadily above his hand. "See? I can control it better now! Soon I'll be able to make it look like a dragon or maybe even a nundu! That would be so cool!"
He looked up, ready to tell Grandpa about his plans for combining fire and mist, but stopped short when he saw Dumbledore's shocked expression, mouth slightly open as he stared at Harry's palm.
"Um... is everything okay, Grandpa?"
"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, standing up from behind his desk. "Where did you learn to create fire?"
Harry smiled widely, still excited. "It just happened! Like my mist and painting! The words showed up in my head and told me about fire-bending and stuff!"
"Words appeared in your head?" Dumbledore walked around his desk, kneeling down to Harry's level. "Like when you learned to create mist?"
"Uh huh! It said something about... um... Cool Powers? And elements and stuff. But fire was the coolest one!" Harry demonstrated with another small flame burst from his palm. "See? And it doesn't even need a wand!"
Dumbledore gently took Harry's hands in his own, examining them carefully. "Does it hurt when you make the fire?"
"Nope! Well, it hurt really bad at first, like burning lines inside me. But now it feels nice and warm!" Harry pulled one hand free to pat his stomach. "The power comes from here, and goes through special paths to my hands and feet!"
"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured. "And you say this knowledge simply appeared in your mind? Like with your mist ability?"
"Yeah! And my painting too!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "The words tell me how to do stuff, and then my body just knows how! Like how I know how to fly when I'm an eagle!"
"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "would you mind looking into my eyes and thinking about when these words appeared? It might help me understand better."
Harry nodded, meeting his Grandpa's bright blue eyes. They always reminded him of sunny days when he could fly really high. He thought hard about the burning lines under his skin and the strange words that had popped into his head.
After a few seconds, Dumbledore sat back on his heels with a puzzled look. "Most peculiar," he muttered, almost like he'd forgotten Harry was there. "No trace of outside influence, no magical residue, not even a hint of how... It's as if the magic simply manifested from nowhere, perfectly formed..."
"Is that bad?" Harry asked, suddenly worried. Had he done something wrong?
"No, not at all," Dumbledore said quickly, his eyes refocusing on Harry. "It's rather remarkable, actually. Though perhaps we should be more careful about when and where you practice your new abilities?"
"But I was careful!" Harry protested. "I made sure no one was around before making the fire, and I only showed the mist to Tonks and her friends 'cause they were helping me learn to control it better!"
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly. "Nymphadora Tonks? Interesting choice of tutor."
"She can change how she looks!" Harry revealed. "Her hair went all different colors and everything! But she said I can't learn that 'cause you have to be born with it." He scrunched up his nose. "That's not fair."
"That's not entirely accurate," Dumbledore said, still looking thoughtful. "Anyone can learn to change their appearance with human transfiguration. It just takes quite a bit of practice and study."
"Really?" Harry whispered. "So I could make my hair different colors too?"
"When you're older, yes." Dumbledore blinked, seeming to come back from his thoughts. "Harry, you mentioned this happened with your painting as well? What exactly occurred then?"
"Oh! Well..." Harry plopped down cross-legged on the floor. "I was really sad about what happened at the Ministry with the bad wizard, and then the words showed up in my head. They asked me to pick what kind of art I wanted to be good at. And I picked painting 'cause it looked fun!"
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "And these words, they were similar to what you saw today?"
"Kind of. They both had the CP thing, but the painting one was different. It said something about being really really good at art, like only once every hundred years good!" Harry beamed proudly. "That's why my paintings are so pretty now."
"Indeed they are," Dumbledore agreed, but his blue eyes had that far-away look again. "Most remarkable..."
"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, adjusting his half-moon spectacles, "would you promise me something?"
Harry nodded eagerly. He liked making promises to Grandpa - it made him feel grown up.
"Next time these special words appear in your head, come tell me right away. Even if it's during the night or when I'm busy. It's very important."
"But why?" Harry asked, fiddling with the hem of his robes. "Is it bad? The words always give me cool things!"
"No, not bad at all," Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Think of it like... getting a new toy. It's exciting, but sometimes we need to make sure the toy is safe to play with first."
Harry scrunched up his nose. "Like when Uncle Filius checks my painting supplies for dangerous stuff?"
"Exactly like that," Dumbledore reached out to ruffle Harry's messy black hair. "I just want to make sure you're safe. Can you do that for me?"
"Okay!" Harry jumped up, ready to show off more fire tricks, but Dumbledore held up a gentle hand.
"Perhaps we should save the fire practice for tomorrow? When you're less tired?"
Harry wanted to argue, but a big yawn escaped instead. Making fire was harder work than it looked. "Can we practice outside? I wanna try making bigger flames!"
"We'll see," Dumbledore chuckled. "For now, I believe it's almost dinner time. Shall we head down to the Great Hall?"
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