Summary One minute Harry's completely normal, the next he's grown a tree in his aunt's house. But he's not the only one experiencing unnatural magical abilities: Minerva's burnt her work to a crisp, Hermione's flooded her bathroom, Snape's created a mini tornado in the Great Hall and Albus is turning the sun on and off as easily as if it were a Muggle light switch. All of this is happening after Voldemort's return … Could the answer lie with the Founders, and can it be used to fight?

Rating PG, but the rating will go up in the rest of the series

Warnings Future Slash, future M-Preg, Other Sensitive Topic

Disclaimer JKR owns the basis of the characters BUT I own the idea for the Elementals … ish. It was inspired a cartoon that my brother's recently become obsessed with. Only they're called something else and don't have Light – that's my invention. I guess I'm just obsessed with the number 5. I please ask that no-one takes the idea behind the Elementals as I may find a use for it in a future fantasy novel. Oh, can I also point out that JKR was the one to put an element to each of the Founders, not me. See author's notes below.

Author's Notes According to Wikipedia (excellent site), each of the Founders represents one of the four elements. Before I read up on this I had already assigned powers to my characters and wanted to stick with them after I found out I had Air and Water the wrong way around, which is the reason some people may find it strange that I made Snape Ravenclaw's descendant and Hermione Slytherin's, instead of the other way around. But Water just seemed to fit Hermione better. (shrugs)
Also, in case you didn't see it in the summary, the ships are Harry/Ron, Albus/Minerva and young!Severus/Hermione. Lastly, the fic is post-GoF but with some OotP elements (pun not intended).


The Elementals I: The Power of Five

By Alexannah

Chapter One: Finding the Elements

"Oh no, not AGAIN!"

Albus ventured apprehensively into Minerva's office, sniffing gingerly. "Is that smoke?"

Minerva looked up from her desk, frustration and confusion all over her face.

"I don't understand, Albus. Look at this! My office is a mess! And I don't know how on earth it happened!"

Albus looked around, bewildered. Charred paperwork was scattered all over the place, and some pieces on the ground were still smoking. One was still curling into flames.

"I don't know how I did it!" Minerva moaned, hurrying round her desk to stamp out the fire. "All I did was think how I wish I didn't have so much work, and it just burst into flames!"

"It's your fiery temper, my dear," Albus half-joked, gathering up the ruined forms on her desk. "When was the last time you lost control of your magic?"

"Yesterday," she replied rather sheepishly.

"What happened?"

"I …"


"I killed Mrs Norris," she mumbled.


"Argus will never speak to me again."

"How did it happen?"

"I don't know! She just -"


"Um … burst into flames?"

"Like your paperwork?"

"Yes. Only my paperwork wasn't clawing me half to death at the time."

Albus began to chuckle but stopped short when she glared at him.

"What's happening to me, Albus? I know it's been a stressful year but I've never heard of this happening to anyone. At this rate I won't be able to leave my rooms in case I hurt someone."

"Don't be ridiculous," Albus chided, pulling her into a hug. "I'm sure it's just a hiccup in your magic – it happens to everyone occasionally. It'll probably be back to normal soon."

Minerva pushed him away. "And if it isn't? What do I do? Burn all the students once term starts again? Or will they have closed down Hogwarts by then because I destroyed the castle?"

"Minerva! Stop being so pessimistic!"

"Albus, I'm serious. I don't want to do anyone any harm – except Riddle, but that's irrelevant – and Fudge too – but I don't want to hurt any of my students or anyone I work with. I need to stop this from happening."

Albus sighed. "And how do you propose doing it?"

"I don't know. You're the resident genius; I was hoping you would have something up your sleeves."

His mouth twitched. "Resident genius? I'm flattered."


"All right," he added hurriedly. "Maybe you could try meditation, or yoga or something."


"Muggle things. I've heard they work – well, not miracles exactly, but they're supposed to be good. They will help you relax and get your powers back under control."

Minerva sighed. "And if that doesn't work?"

"One bridge at a time."


"There must be something you want me to do," Hermione said desperately, following her mother out of the kitchen. "Maybe run an errand?"

Mrs Granger dropped the pile of underwear on the chair. "Hermione, I appreciate your wanting to help sweetheart, but this is your holiday. You only come home once a year. Enjoy it!"

"I can't," Hermione mumbled, watching her mother for a minute before turning and heading upstairs.

What could she do? She'd finished all her homework within a few days of the term ending. She'd helped her parents out endlessly: washing up, cooking meals, doing the laundry, tidying her room three times a day, until they'd put their foot down and refused to let her help anymore. So now Hermione was left to dwell on the end of last year.

She curled up in a corner of the bathroom, her legs pulled up to her chest, trying not to let the tears spill as the repressed feelings of hurt and betrayal and grief and dread overcame her. She hadn't let herself think about the Third Task since the night it had happened, and now she had nothing to distract her from the cold truth.

Hermione cried.


Minerva was standing in blackness. There was an orangish glow ahead of her, just out of reach. Something was pulling at her to touch it. She reached out her hand …


Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright, jerked sharply out of her meditation. Albus was hopping up and down – his robes singed badly.

"Ow, ow, ow. Water!"

Minerva scrambled to her feet, grabbed her wand and shot a jet of water at him. Albus sighed.

"That's better. Ouch. Sore though." Nursing his burnt hands, he looked up in astonishment at her.

"Maybe you were right," he admitted. "This isn't normal."

"I told you," Minerva huffed. Smoke literally furled from her nostrils and Albus took a step back.

"Not related to any dragons, are you?"


"Sorry. All right. Where do we go from here?"

Minerva shrugged. "I don't know, Albus. Maybe I should just resign. I can't put the students in danger."

Albus shook his head. "There has to be a reason for this, this is not just your magic acting up." He paused. "Did you connect?"


"With your magic. I've heard that when wizards meditate they can actually see their magic in front or around them."

"I think so. I touched it – that was when you got burnt."

"What did it look like?"

"Orange, why?"

Albus shook his head. "A wizard's magical core is either white or dark depending on whether they use it for the Dark Arts or not. It's never orange, as far as I'm aware."

"Well it was with me."

"I'm not saying it wasn't! I think we should do a bit of research – see if anything like this has ever happened before … and it might be an idea to make sure it's not happening to anyone else as well …"


Severus was not a calm man, but he had never lost complete control over his magic before. The first time he banged his fist on his desk, a gust of wind from nowhere blew his papers everywhere. Later than day, he was fuming after an argument with Flitwick and succeeded in extinguishing every candle in the Great Hall. Then to top it off, he tripped and could have sustained a serious injury falling down the stairs but there was a whoosh and there he was, back on his feet.

It was ridiculous.


The day was much too hot for Harry's liking. He grinded his teeth as he pushed the lawn mower across the grass for the twelfth time that day. It was surprising he hadn't got a letter from the Ministry yet. If he did he would probably blow a fuse and curse it into oblivion. It was not his fault that the grass insisted on sprouting three inches every time he walked over it.

Reaching the hedge, he switched the stupid thing off and turned round. His newly-discovered green fingers had definitely come in useful when doing the flower beds – even Aunt Petunia had said she loved what he had done with the rose bushes – but now it was becoming a nuisance. He groaned as he saw the grass was now taller than it had been before he'd started.

Harry kicked a watering can in frustration. That was going to have to do, he couldn't stand this heat anymore. Five minutes later he had haphazardly packed away the tools and made for the blissfully cool kitchen.

He poured out a glass of iced water and sat back in the living-room, staring unseeingly at the window-sill. A set of expensive ornaments and a potted plant were lined up together. Harry tried to remember what the flower was called – aster, that was it.

The Dursleys weren't around. Harry glanced furtively around before standing up. Something was funny with his magic, that he was sure of. If it worked accidentally, maybe it could work deliberately. Harry shakily held his hands out over the dropping plant and willed it to grow.

Not a good idea.


AN: So, what do you think so far? I've been working on this series for months. There's going to be five in the series.