Professor Tayra was marking homework; her brow creased, then she shut her eyes briefly to rest before reading on.
When Sean entered, the professor didn't look in the best of spirits—but that changed in an instant:
"You're here, child. It seems your wheezes shop isn't doing too badly?"
Tayra was rigorous, but she always encouraged wizards to push at alchemy's mysterious frontier.
A wizard who can't feel the summons of that vast, numinous field is not a qualified alchemist.
So even if the shop's stock wasn't profound, the playfulness and invention in it were enough to tell her there was something there.
Sean was a bit surprised—he hadn't thought she'd care about such "little things."
And the shop was a curious accident; he hadn't expected the alchemy homework he'd tossed off to sell so wildly.
"Professor, I succeeded."
Sean gathered his thoughts and set a biscuit that purred on the desk.
Seeing the professor's intent gaze, he began his explanation:
"I used a ritual of my own making to transfer the magical capacity of a magical creature into a wizard."
At his first sentence, Tayra shot to her feet; the upper-years outside the door were left blinking.
"What's a self-made ritual? And what's 'transferring a magical creature's capacity into a wizard'?
What on earth is he talking about?" gaped a Ravenclaw boy.
"If we're studying the same alchemy… I still don't get it," said a Gryffindor beside him, slack-jawed.
"I think…"
The third boy ventured; the other two looked to him.
"This… isn't English," he pronounced.
Inside, the explanation continued:
"There are still many flaws. The transformer can't stay conscious; the duration is only one minute; the crafting time is too long… Most importantly, if the user doesn't desire the coming transformation and firmly believe they are a Kneazle, the transformation is likely to fail."
Sean paused, then went on:
"Although I've made this biscuit, its replicability remains doubtful. Even a creator can't explain the entire effect of every step. The one thing I'm certain of is that the wizard's will plays the decisive role…
But magic's mystic nature always makes up the difference; perhaps a wizard doesn't need to understand everything.
Mm—simply put—once a wizard has grasped a ritual to a certain degree, all he needs is to believe, and let magic do the rest."
…Like potions—Sean often felt a first-year's successful brew was raw effort birthing a miracle.
And—unluckily for skeptics—that's exactly what magic is: the miracle by which wizards refashion the world.
In the alchemy classroom, Sean outlined his entire process in one breath; the only thing he glossed over was how he'd built his framework for the alchemical will.
Silence fell. The eavesdropping upper-years had long since ceased to understand.
"You made it but can't reproduce it?" "You can't explain it but it works?" "What do you mean 'believe', what 'magic'…"
They had no idea what this wizard was talking about…
"There's Beef Wellington for dinner in the Hall," the Ravenclaw said.
"Oh, that we can discuss. I think beef stewed with mushrooms is also excellent," said the Gryffindor. The two Ravenclaws slung their arms around each other and drifted off.
Tayra gazed long at the doorway, then drew a sharp breath.
"By yourself… of course you did… over a month? I can keep time… a self-made ritual… completing a crossing from wizard to magical creature…"
She rambled through a string of half-muttered thoughts; the more she spoke, the brighter her eyes shone.
She knew an alchemist might meet some excellent first-years in a lifetime. But what she had met was far beyond "an excellent first-year"…
"Sean Green—my student—you will surpass Nicolas Flamel."
Her eyes blazed with certainty.
Sean started and shook his head—he wouldn't dare say such grand words.
"Humility is a virtue—but too much of it…" Tayra shook her head with a smile—then looked faintly puzzled.
"My student—do you truly think so?"
Sean nodded.
"Merlin— I've seen too many ignorant wizards proud of their ignorance, and too many arrogant fools with no ability at all…"
Tayra could not recall a time her mood had been so good.
She produced a card that somehow looked both luxurious and restrained, and placed it in Sean's hand:
"The Uladah International Alchemy Conference—I thought only the Headmaster and I would attend, but now there is a third wizard, yes?
Before then, broaden the boundary of Magical-Creature Biscuits as much as you can. If a Kneazle Biscuit exists, there must be others. If you need materials—or have any question—you can use this to find me."
Before Sean could pocket the invitation, a small white booklet appeared in his palm.
"This is the construct for which I won the Gold Medal for Pioneering Contribution at the last Conference—you'll understand what it does.
Oh—and don't forget to name this milestone alchemical construct, my student.
Learn to own your honors; that too is important."
Tayra kept Sean's notes and the Kneazle Biscuit and gently saw him out—clearly she meant to study the biscuit.
Sean beckoned; the Nimbus 2000 swooped in the window. He swung astride; his figure melted into the dark.
Only then did he read the invitation.
[To: Alchemist of Distinguished Achievement, Sean Green.
Shall we step forward again upon the path of truth—or will we stumble in the soil of mediocrity?
The Uladah International Alchemy Conference awaits the arrival of an age.]
No florid description—only a quiet note of guidance. It almost sounded like a boast from some Hogwarts club.
But when his own name flared upon the page, Sean realized: alchemists had always held the deep power of magic.
In the Hope Nook.
The small hearth had crept to burn by Sean's feet. He was thinking through which magical creatures to choose next.
The only difficulty in new creatures lay in whether he understood them well enough—so it was best to pick ones seen at Hogwarts.
His quick-quill hovered, recording his thoughts:
[Three-Headed Dog, Fire Dragon, Basilisk… Hm. In second year, a basilisk shouldn't be my match…]
~~~
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