Professor Terra was grading assignments, her brow furrowing before she closed her eyes for a brief rest, gathering the energy to continue.
When Sean walked in, she seemed a bit worn out, but her mood lifted almost instantly.
"You're here, child. Looks like your joke shop's doing pretty well, huh?"
Professor Terra was strict, but she always encouraged wizards to push the boundaries of alchemy's mysteries. A wizard who couldn't feel the call of that vast, enigmatic realm wasn't a true alchemist in her eyes.
Though the shop's products weren't exactly profound, their whimsical creativity caught her attention.
Sean was a little surprised. He hadn't expected the professor to care about something as trivial as a joke shop. Even he hadn't anticipated that his casual alchemy homework would become such a hit.
"Professor, I did it," Sean said, focusing his thoughts. He placed a biscuit that made a soft "purring" sound on her desk.
Noticing her intense gaze, he began his explanation:
"I developed a new magical ritual that transfers the abilities of magical creatures into a wizard's body."
The moment the words left his mouth, Professor Terra shot to her feet. Outside the door, a group of older students froze, dumbfounded.
"What's a 'new ritual'? And what's this about transferring magical creature abilities into a wizard? What's this guy talking about?" a Ravenclaw boy stammered, jaw practically on the floor.
"If we're studying the same alchemy… I still don't get it," a Gryffindor muttered beside him.
"I think…" a third student started, drawing their attention.
"This isn't even English!" he declared with absolute certainty.
Back in the classroom, Sean continued:
"There are still plenty of flaws. The person transforming can't stay conscious, the effect only lasts a minute, and the production process takes too long. Most importantly, if the user doesn't deeply want the transformation and truly believe they're becoming, say, a Kneazle, it's likely to fail."
Sean paused briefly before going on:
"Even though I made this biscuit, its replicability is questionable. Even as its creator, I can't fully explain the purpose of every step. The one thing I'm sure of is that a wizard's will plays a critical role. Magic's mysterious nature seems to compensate for that. Maybe wizards don't need to understand every detail—just master the ritual, believe in it, and let the magic do the rest."
It was like brewing a potion—Sean couldn't shake the feeling that some young wizards succeeded through sheer miraculous effort. And magic, after all, was the miracle that let wizards reshape the world.
In the alchemy classroom, Sean laid out his entire process, skipping only the framework he'd built around the concept of alchemical will.
The room fell silent. The older students eavesdropping outside were completely lost by the end.
What did he mean, "made it but can't replicate it"? Or "can't explain it but it works"? And all that talk about belief and magic? They had no clue what this kid was on about.
"There's Wellington steak for dinner in the Great Hall tonight," the Ravenclaw boy said abruptly.
"Oh, now that's worth talking about. I think beef and mushroom stew's pretty great too," the Gryffindor replied, slinging his arms around the two Ravenclaws as they wandered off.
Professor Terra shot a glance at the doorway, then took a deep breath.
"Of course it's you… a month and a half? No, I can count… a self-created ritual… bridging magic from wizards to magical creatures…" she muttered, her eyes growing brighter with every word.
She knew every alchemist would encounter a few exceptional young wizards in their lifetime, but Sean? He was far more than exceptional.
"Sean Green, my student, you'll surpass Nicolas Flamel," she said, her gaze fierce with conviction.
Sean flinched, shaking his head. He wasn't about to make such a bold claim.
"Humility is a fine trait, but too much of it…" Professor Terra said with a teasing smile, though her expression turned curious. "You really think that, don't you?"
Sean nodded.
"Merlin's beard—I've seen too many wizards who were ignorant and didn't know it, and too many arrogant fools with no talent to back it up," she said, her mood brighter than ever.
She handed Sean an elegant, understated card.
"The Ullada International Alchemy Conference. I thought it'd just be me and Headmaster Dumbledore attending, but now we've got one more wizard, don't we? Before that, you need to push the boundaries of your magical creature transformation biscuits as far as you can. If there's a Kneazle biscuit, there must be others. If you need materials or have any questions, use this to reach me."
Before Sean could even tuck away the invitation, she pressed a small booklet of white paper into his hand.
"This is what earned me the Pioneering Contribution Gold Award at the last conference. You'll figure out how it works. Oh, and don't forget to name this groundbreaking alchemical creation, my student. Learning to embrace your achievements is just as important."
Professor Terra kept Sean's notes and the Kneazle biscuit, gently shooing him out of the classroom. It was clear she was eager to study the biscuit herself.
Sean summoned his Nimbus 2000 with a wave, and it zoomed in through the window. He hopped on and vanished into the darkness.
Only then did he glance at the invitation.
To: Sean Green, Esteemed Alchemist
Will we take another step toward truth, or stumble in the mud of mediocrity?
The Ullada International Alchemy Conference awaits the arrival of an era.
No fancy descriptions, just a subtle sense of purpose—like something you'd hear from a Hogwarts club with big dreams. But seeing his name on the letter made Sean realize the profound power alchemists held.
Back in the Room of Requirement, the small fireplace had scooted over to Sean's feet. He was deep in thought about which magical creatures he could use next.
The challenge with different creatures lay in how well he understood them, so it made sense to stick with ones he could observe at Hogwarts.
His quill hovered over his notebook, scribbling as he thought:
Three-headed dog, dragon, basilisk… Hmm, back in second year, a basilisk probably wouldn't have been a match for me…