"Leo, can I learn from you how to make that kind of mechanical animal?"
Leo turned around and regarded the red-haired boy with mild surprise.
"Ron, are you very interested in alchemy?"
Ron scratched his hair uncertainly, "Alchemy, maybe? I've seen Fred and George use it to make some clever little gadgets. Oh, Fred and George are my brothers—two years ahead of us."
Leo nodded knowingly. The Weasley twins brought pranks and joy to Hogwarts in equal measure. They were indeed quite skilled at crafting magical items, suggesting considerable natural talent in alchemy.
"Ron, do you want to learn alchemy generally, or do you specifically want to learn that kind of mechanical creation?"
If Ron said he wanted to learn alchemy broadly, Leo would refuse for the same reason he'd declined Hermione—too advanced, too soon. But if it was purely mechanical creations, that was more about Transfiguration applications: inanimate-to-inanimate transformation and semi-permanent solidification.
If Ron just wanted to learn mechanical creations for personal use, he didn't even need to master solidification first. As for the required potions, Ron couldn't brew them himself, but he could directly ask his friend Harry for help.
Leo didn't mind teaching Ron to make alchemical mechanics—he could use the same arrangement as with Harry, borrowing family grimoires as payment. No matter how tight the Weasley family finances were, they were still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families with centuries of family history, surely possessing generations of inherited magical knowledge.
Whether Ron's parents would agree to lend them was another question—Ron should ask first. Once there were books to study, then he'd teach.
"Um, I'm actually just interested in that kind of mechanical creation specifically," Ron admitted.
Leo nodded approvingly. "You should understand that even mechanical alchemy still requires a solid foundation in Transfiguration and Potions."
Hearing this, Ron's expression became awkward, his ears gradually turning as red as his hair. "I know my talent is pretty average, and I learn magic slowly, but I really want to—"
Ron's stammering made Leo shake his head. Ron's talent indeed wasn't outstanding, especially compared to his accomplished older brothers. His siblings included a Gringotts curse-breaker, a dragon researcher, a Gryffindor prefect with excellent marks...
Moreover, Ron's personality tended toward laziness—except for showing genuine courage at critical moments, he usually just scraped by with minimum effort. Leo suspected that, besides natural inclination, constantly comparing himself to his older brothers made Ron increasingly self-conscious, leading him down the path of giving up and slacking off entirely.
"Hold on."
Leo's brief interruption made Ron's muttering halt abruptly, his ears turning the exact colour of his hair. Just as Ron was about to make some self-deprecating joke to cover his embarrassment, he saw Leo pull out several small stones and draw his wand to point at them.
Those stones each transformed fluidly into different components, then began flying and rapidly assembling in mid-air with mechanical precision.
Leo tossed Ron something resembling an intricate interlocking puzzle made of transformed wood and metal.
"Try it. Take it apart, then put it back together."
This was a magical version of a mechanical puzzle Leo had casually created, mainly to test whether Ron possessed mechanical aptitude and sufficient patience. If Ron's request to learn mechanical creation was just a momentary whim without patience for this puzzle, then there was no point wasting both their time—he'd just find a polite excuse to refuse.
Leo observed as Ron first carefully examined the puzzle lock from all angles, only attempting to unlock it after one or two minutes of thoughtful study. Ron's movements were remarkably light and deliberate. After finding one approach hopeless, he methodically stepped back and tried alternative methods without frustration.
Wasn't this quite patient? Why didn't he show such careful attention in Herbology and Potions classes? Only when encountering things of genuine interest did he display this focus, apparently. Well, this kid was reputedly quite skilled at wizard chess, and someone who could play chess competently should logically possess patience.
Ron finally disassembled the complex puzzle. Before he could celebrate, he remembered he still had to reassemble it successfully. But this time the process was noticeably faster, making Leo raise an eyebrow with genuine interest. Maybe Ron really did possess some natural talent with mechanical systems and spatial reasoning.
When Ron triumphantly held up the completely reassembled puzzle, Leo nodded with approval. "Very good."
Leo's genuine praise made Ron visibly embarrassed—it was apparently rare for someone to commend him for doing something well.
"Oh right, Leo, about those potions—do I have to brew them myself? Can I ask Harry to help instead? He seems to have improved dramatically in Potions lately!" Ron's question made Leo smile knowingly.
This mental pivot wasn't slow either—as expected, when willing to actively think about subjects of genuine interest, his reasoning became sharper and more practical.
Hearing others praise students he'd personally taught for learning well felt even more satisfying than being praised for his own scholarship. So being a teacher had this additional satisfaction, this sense of accomplishment in nurturing others' growth.
"No problem, but you'll still need to learn Transfiguration yourself."
If teaching Transfiguration, Leo was confident there'd be no insurmountable problems. The most basic inanimate-to-inanimate transformation, even involving more advanced mechanical applications—Leo believed he could teach it effectively.
If he couldn't teach it successfully, that meant his explanations weren't thorough enough and his grasp of foundational knowledge wasn't deep enough! Then he should push himself harder in both scholarship and teaching ability!
Ron nodded vigorously with newfound determination. If it was for that fascinating alchemical mechanics, he'd be willing to work genuinely hard at Transfiguration studies.
"Ron, I can teach you to make that kind of mechanics, but I won't teach for free," Leo said directly. "If you have something that can be exchanged, family inheritance that's relatively substantial..."
Before hearing Leo finish completely, Ron reacted with surprising speed. He pulled out a battered old wand from his pocket, the unicorn hair core exposed and fraying at the damaged end.
Ron said with genuinely pained expression, "This is my family's inherited wand, but can you wait until I save money to buy a new one? This one could be yours temporarily..."
"Stop. What would I possibly do with your wand?" Leo looked at Ron with complete exasperation. This redhead had peculiar thought processes.
What use was an extra wand—use it as kindling for fires?
"Oh, I understand now! Leo, you don't have a pet yet, right? So maybe my—" Ron put the wand away and pulled out a mangy, listless old rat from his pocket with surprising gentleness.
"As for Scabbers, he likes eating pumpkin pie, enjoys drinking red wine occasionally, but you absolutely can't let him drink too much, or he gets mean..."
Leo quickly raised his hand to halt Ron's increasingly detailed muttering. "I don't want your wand, and I definitely don't want your rat! I want to borrow your family's magic books—borrow magic books! Grimoires with spells and magical knowledge!"
Ron made an enlightened "oh" sound. "I see now. When you said family inheritance, I thought—the wand was passed down from my second brother Charlie, and Scabbers was passed down from my third brother Percy."
"As for magic books specifically, I'll need to write home and ask Mum. I honestly don't know if we have any old ones lying around."
Leo was immediately speechless. Harry at least hadn't been exposed to magical culture before and genuinely didn't understand about family inheritance and grimoires. But wasn't Ron raised in a magical household from birth? How could he not know even this basic aspect? Pure-blood families should start teaching magical theory before Hogwarts enrolment, shouldn't they?
Turns out this kid apparently hadn't learnt much of anything at home beyond the absolute basics.
The subsequent teaching probably wouldn't be particularly easy, Leo realised with resignation.
Leo looked up at the luminous moon hanging overhead in the darkening sky. Hopefully the Weasley family's inherited magical knowledge would be substantial enough to make this exchange worthwhile...