Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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Pandas and Pandaren are entirely different species.

It wasn't until Harry arrived in Pandaren Village that he truly understood this distinction.

If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed that these creatures—standing at least fifteen meters tall in adulthood, weighing no less than fifty tons, and capable of causing small-scale earthquakes with a single slap—were related to pandas in any way. Yet, their markings were identical to those of regular pandas, their calls were the same, and even their cutesy whining was indistinguishable.

But the difference between an ordinary panda and a magical panda was like the difference between Muggles and wizards—completely incomparable.

The latter were apex magical beasts, their combat prowess on par with Frost Tyrants. They served as the mounts of the Pandaren, and according to the villagers, there was even an elite cavalry unit composed entirely of Pandaren riding these colossal creatures—much like kobolds riding wolves or werewolves mounted on direwolves. Each rider and mount shared a deep, almost telepathic bond, their coordination seamless in battle.

Unfortunately, Harry had only seen one magical panda so far—a towering, mountain-like creature that had just reached adulthood. It remained in the village because it had yet to find a suitable Pandaren rider. Contrary to popular belief, these beasts didn't subsist on bamboo or bamboo shoots. Such low-nutrient food wouldn't even begin to satisfy them, no matter how much they ate in a day. Their primary diet was meat; bamboo and shoots were merely occasional snacks. The phrase "eats a whole cow a day" wasn't just an exaggeration—this beast devoured at least one to two tons of meat daily. A single cow wouldn't even last it a meal.

Yet, what surprised Harry even more than the magical pandas was the Pandaren themselves.

Frankly, if not for the fact that beastmen had lower reproductive rates compared to humans, they might have been considered the true "chosen ones" of the magical world. Compared to human wizards, Pandaren possessed superior physical strength, longer lifespans, higher overall magic reserves, and even greater magic quality. They could cast spells effortlessly without the need for wands or other magical conduits.

Aside from Animagus transformations—one of the few exceptions—there was no spell a human wizard could cast that a Pandaren couldn't. However, unlike wizards, who preferred "pulling out a wand and going pew pew pew," Pandaren favored more hands-on, close-combat techniques.

In the Primordial Celestial Dynasty, magic was referred to as Qi or spiritual energy. And Qi wasn't just used for flashy spellcasting or ranged attacks—it could also be utilized for self-enhancement. This principle aligned closely with Magical Body Refinement, the practice Harry had been advocating in the battle corps. Yet, what was still a niche discipline in Europe had already been deeply ingrained in Pandaren culture for thousands of years.

Generations of Qi Refiners had trained their bodies to adapt to magic integration, eliminating the immense pain that often accompanied magical body refinement in humans. The hardship that European wizards feared? The ancestors of the Pandaren had already endured and overcome it. As a result, every Pandaren was born attuned to the fusion of magic and body reinforcement. And with their naturally superior physique, they had pushed the boundaries of self-enhancement far beyond human limits.

One of the greatest challenges in magic was the persistence of raw, non-verbal magic after it left the body. Normally, unspoken magic dispersed rapidly upon release, reabsorbed into the surrounding magical environment. It was easy to gather magic into a sphere, but ensuring that the sphere didn't dissolve before it even traveled ten meters was an entirely different challenge.

Awakened individuals, however, possessed magic that could persist in the world indefinitely. Even after their deaths, their magic could remain intact for centuries. The fundamental reason for this was the overwhelming concentration of their personal spiritual will within their magic. If an ordinary wizard's magic contained a mere one ten-thousandth of their will, then an Awakened individual's magic contained a one-to-one ratio—or even higher.

For them, magic wasn't just an energy source—it was an extension of their very identity. Their magic bore a unique spiritual signature, an undeniable proof of their existence that no one could imitate.

The people of the Primordial Celestial Dynasty had long understood this principle. Their nation produced just as many Awakened individuals as any other region, but due to their distinct approach to magic, they had recognized the significance of magical refinement far earlier than the rest of the world.

While other regions allowed their magic-users to develop in a "wild and untamed" manner, the Celestial Dynasty had already established a structured classification system for spellcasters—one based on the different refinement stages of their magic.

This magical refinement system had nothing to do with age or combat ability. It was purely a measure of how purified and potent a spellcaster's magic had become.

First Stage: Qi Refinement – This referred to individuals who had never undergone magical refinement. Their raw magic, once released, would immediately dissipate into the environment. The vast majority—80-90%—of wizards worldwide fell into this category.

Second Stage: Foundation Establishment – This was the initial step in merging Qi with the body (Magical Body Refinement). It strengthened a practitioner's sensitivity to Qi and prepared them for deeper refinement in the future.

Third Stage: Core Formation – Those who reached this stage had completed Magical Body Refinement and begun forming a spiritual core within themselves. This core further refined their internal magic, embedding it with their personal will. At this level, their raw, non-verbal magic could persist in the world for brief periods without dispersing immediately upon release.

Fourth Stage: Nascent Soul

At this level, a practitioner gained the ability to completely abandon verbal incantations and directly manipulate Qi for both offense and defense. Their internal spiritual core underwent a profound transformation, evolving into an avatar of their spiritual will. This avatar continuously refined the practitioner's magic from within, significantly increasing the concentration of their spiritual essence within their magic.

There was no Fifth Stage. The Fourth Stage represented the absolute limit of what human wizards could achieve. Beyond this point lay an insurmountable chasm—one that could only be crossed through innate talent, a gift bestowed by fate. And on the other side of that chasm stood the Awakened Ones, the pinnacle of magical existence.

The magic of an Awakened One was the highest refinement of magic in the entire wizarding world. Even beings as powerful as Solar Dragons, despite their immense elemental mastery, could not match the Awakened in terms of magic permanence. While even the strongest magical creatures had their magic eventually dissipate, an Awakened One's magic could persist in the world indefinitely.

However, this method of refining magic—infusing it with concentrated spiritual will—was something unique to human spellcasters. It was a technique devised by humans as a means to compensate for their inherent magical deficiencies. Other magical beings had no need for such a method.

For Pandaren, Nascent Soul levels of magical refinement were simply innate. They were born at the Core Formation stage, naturally possessing the ability to directly perceive and manipulate Qi without needing magical body refinement. While their magic would still eventually be absorbed by natural magical forces, the rate at which this happened was slow enough for practical combat.

If a Pandaren had sufficient talent—or simply reached their natural maturity at thirty years old—stepping into the Nascent Soul stage was inevitable. This wasn't because they developed an actual Nascent Soul upon adulthood, but rather because their bodies and magic reached full maturity, naturally refining their magical purity to the point where they instinctively broke through this threshold.

At this stage, their raw magic could persist outside their bodies for a full ten seconds before beginning to dissipate. Ten seconds was more than enough to unleash a devastating attack—including the Panda Palm Qi Blast that Xiong Dezhen had demonstrated while sparring with Harry.

And if they took the time to further compress their magic, these Qi Blasts could reach speeds of 600 to 700 meters per second. Given ten seconds of flight time, they could launch guided projectiles from six to seven kilometers away—essentially handcrafted missiles capable of tracking a target mid-flight. The resulting explosion would easily leave a crater two to three meters deep.

Compared to structured spellcasting, the raw release of magic in this way was relatively low in power, lacked versatility, and was easier to counter. However, this simple, brute-force application of magic also enabled feats that conventional spells could never achieve.

"Coach!"

"I want to learn this!"

A passionate voice rang out across the spacious training grounds, filled with fervor and determination. It was the kind of voice that could shatter stone and pierce iron.

Nearby, a massive Pandaren—standing over three meters tall—glanced down at a battered black bear beastman lying face-down on the ground, his face twisted in pain.

"That your buddy? Why does he look kinda dumb?" the Pandaren asked with a smirk.

The black bear beastman, who was still dazed from the beating, suddenly clenched his fist and roared:

"I, Xiong Dezhen, swear to the heavens—I will never get married! You will NEVER hold a grandchild in your arms! I will piss you off until the day you die—"

WHAM!

Before he could finish, a massive fist came crashing down on him.

"Aaaagh! Old man, stop! I'm dying—my bones are breaking!"

"Oh, you think you're funny? You think you can just run off for a few years and come back acting all high and mighty, huh?" The Pandaren elder loomed over him, his voice like rolling thunder. "I'll teach you to talk back to your old man! I'll beat you until you beg for a wife!"

"I was wrong! I was so wrong! I'll find a white bear girl—get married—IMMEDIATELY!"

The elder lifted his massive, boulder-like fist again—then sighed and lowered it. "Hmph. I'll let it slide this time. Now go take care of your friend—he's traveled all this way to see you. Make sure you show him a good time. And don't forget to come home tonight, you hear? Your mother won't shut up about you if you don't."

"Got it..."

Xiong Dezhen, still grimacing, struggled to his feet and hobbled toward the training field's edge. His lips moved soundlessly, as if muttering a quiet prayer for his own survival.

Meanwhile, Harry, eyes gleaming, watched the Pandaren elder's retreating figure and whispered in awe:

"Damn… that was badass."

Xiong Dezhen shot him a look, shaking his head. "You've never been on the receiving end of his fists. If you had, you wouldn't be calling it badass. You'd be calling it trauma."

Harry smirked. "Pain? What's there to be afraid of?" He patted a nearby stone railing as he continued, switching effortlessly into Sichuan dialect. "There are so many hardships in the world—this is one of the easiest to get used to."

Xiong Dezhen snorted. "Yeah, yeah, keep talking big." He carefully eased himself down beside Harry, wincing as he inhaled sharply. "We'll see how fearless you are after you've been on the wrong end of a real beating."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You don't believe me?"

His voice turned calm—almost eerie. "I've experienced things a thousand times worse than pain. Dozens of times."

"Tch, a thousand times scarier? You sure know how to talk big. Why don't you tell me what you've really experienced?"

"Talking doesn't mean anything. You need to feel it to understand. Want to give it a try?" Harry said as he reached into his bag, pulling out a small bottle the size of his thumb, filled about one-third with a red liquid. "You're already hurt, right? Drink this, and if you can stay silent, I'll admit you're impressive."

Xiong Dezhen, not too concerned about what Harry was handing him (figuring it was probably a healing potion), took the bottle. "I'll drink it. Let's go!" Without hesitation, he popped off the cap and gulped down the few drops of magic potion.

The moment it hit his throat, his face, once dark and grim, turned ashen, like a gray filter had been applied to it. He screamed in agony, the kind of scream that felt like it was tearing through his very soul.

"MOM!!!"

The anguished cry echoed, accompanied by a fit of dry heaves.

"You really are impressive."

Harry raised his thumb slowly in approval. After all, it was no easy feat to run around upside down while gagging and dry-heaving.

"What the hell are you doing, you idiot?"

Xiong Dezhen's father, hearing the terrible screams of his son, quickly stormed back over. Seeing Harry and then his son, who seemed perfectly fine except for a few minor bruises, he sighed in frustration.

But before he could ask any questions, he caught a whiff of something familiar and wrinkled his nose in recognition.

"This little bottle…" He carefully picked up the potion bottle that Xiong Dezhen had dropped. "Ultimate Life Potion? No way! Just a few drops of this cost a thousand bucks! You gave him this?"

He bent down to look Harry in the eyes. When Harry nodded, the Pandaren father's face grew pained. A thousand gold coins were equivalent to over four thousand Galleons, a hefty sum anywhere you looked.

"Don't waste it!"

Noticing there were still one or two drops left in the bottle, despite knowing the potion was far too strong for his son's minor injuries, the father still couldn't bring himself to waste it. He grabbed Xiong Dezhen by the scruff and yanked him back. "Drink it. Whether you like it or not, your friend gave this to you with good intentions. Got it?"

"No! I won't drink it! You can kill me, I won't drink it! Kill me! I'd rather die!"

Xiong Dezhen, now fully aware of what real terror felt like, writhed in his father's grip, holding his mouth shut and struggling to escape. The taste of that potion was so awful it could not be described by mere words. It was a soul-crushing experience.

"Hey, you little fool. This is a good potion. Your old man earns less than two bottles of this in a month!"

"Good? You drink it then! You have a temper? You try it! No more talk!"

The Pandaren father growled, shaking his head in exasperation as he turned his son over in his grip. "You're asking for it today, aren't you? Just because your friend is here doesn't mean I won't teach you a lesson."

Xiong Dezhen, with nowhere to run, just mumbled under his breath, "Go ahead and drink it. If you're so tough, you drink it, and don't complain."

The Pandaren father, trusting his own instincts and sense of smell, uncorked the bottle and dropped the last few drops onto his tongue. His mouth reflexively flinched as he tried to swallow, but before the foul taste could reach his brain, his body reacted instinctively. He bit down hard, the force leaving deep indentations in his tongue. But just as quickly, the bite mark vanished, healing as if it had never been there.

The incredible healing power of the potion took immediate effect. This was no ordinary healing elixir—this was a life-defying concoction, potent enough to heal the deepest of wounds, crafted by a master potion-maker like Snape himself. It was rare for even the most powerful wizards to have access to such a thing.

"Tch, this is some quality stuff…" The Pandaren father murmured, though his son had no idea just how much value that potion held. "It's the kind of thing that could bring someone back from the brink of death… And you let him drink it like it's nothing!"

In that moment, the Pandaren father couldn't help but reflect on just how much care went into crafting such an incredible potion. Despite his annoyance with his son, he couldn't deny that Harry had proven himself today, bringing out an experience far beyond the ordinary.

(End of Chapter)