The letters were undoubtedly a challenge. As the leading authority after Nicolas Flal, Professor Terra's achievents had left an indelible mark on the history of Alchemy.
She held tenure at five different wizarding schools and, had she been older, would surely have had a seat on the Council of the International Alchemical Society.
Yet, despite her fa, she had never found a suitable apprentice. This was one of the reasons she travelled so extensively.
Without students, there is no legacy. And legacy was paramount in the world of Alchemy.
It wasn't just about the lofty goal of advancing the field; it was about the alchemist's own pride and stubbornness.
Every renowned alchemist had a distinct, personal style. This stemd from the inherent obscurity of alchemical knowledge, the excessive use of allegory and symbolism. A single classic text might spawn dozens of different interpretations.
Therefore, the end of a personal lineage was tantamount to the extinction of an entire branch of alchemical thought. This was especially true in the magical world, where progress was almost always driven by individual, singular geniuses.
Alchemy Office.
Professor Terra gazed at Sean with burning intensity.
She should have co to Hogwarts sooner…
"Acceptable..."
Her face ca into focus again, her voice clear and strong. "Alright, child. Incredible results!"
Her composure finally slipped.
"From this day forward, your ti belongs to the vastness of Alchemy. You are to finish these books by the end of the Christmas holidays..."
"And present a dissertation on Alchemical Rituals."
Her calm tone carried both severity and expectation. With a wave of her hand, books flew from the deepest recesses of the office.
Alchemy, ultimately, was a ritual magic. Unlike the rigid precision of Potions, alchemical rituals varied wildly in style. However, almost all alchemists agreed on one thing: an alchemist cannot use two rituals simultaneously.
This ant that once an apprentice mastered a specific ritual and ford the necessary habits, learning another beca incredibly difficult.
It also signified their induction into a specific school of Alchemy.
Leaving the Alchemy classroom, Sean's arms were laden with books, all of them Professor Terra's personal annotations.
Sean didn't know that Alchemy operated on a master-apprentice system. These personal notes detailing theories and thods were like a certification. Once he demonstrated the unique techniques contained within, other alchemists would inevitably recognize his lineage.
In the corridor, the heavy rain slowly ceased.
Sean walked with a light step. He understood now that his talent, even by the high standards of the alchemical world, was significant.
From the mont he first rode a broomstick, he had been able to sense the flow of magic within alchemical creations, to deconstruct their runic components…
Just as a Potions Master intuitively knew the heat, the stirring force, the precise mont of extraction.
This was talent for a specific branch of magic. And this was, after all, a world governed by talent.
"The Great Green! How did it go? Did Professor Terra say—"
The corridor, as always, seed to spawn Weasley twins. Sean was used to it.
"No."
Sean paused for a mont. "She just said: 'Incredible results'."
"Ah—?"
Fred let out a despairing groan.
"Then all those disgusting biscuits we ate—"
George added, equally mournful.
Realizing they had let sothing slip, their faces paled, and they vanished in a blur of motion.
Sean sighed. If the twins ever opened a shop, he would gladly invest. It was a guaranteed profit.
One week remained until Christmas.
The sky suddenly cleared, turning a brilliant, dazzling opalescent white. One morning, the muddy grounds were covered in a sparkling frost. The castle bustled with holiday preparations.
Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with colorful lights that would turn into real fairies and flutter their wings.
Corridor outside the Great Hall.
Sean and his friends found their path blocked by a massive fir tree. Seeing two large feet sticking out from underneath and hearing loud puffing noises, they knew it had to be Hagrid.
"Hey, Hagrid, need any help?" Ron asked, poking his head through the branches.
"Nah, I'm alright, thanks, Ron," Hagrid rumbled. He dragged the tree away—it was destined for the Great Hall.
Everyone was eagerly awaiting the holidays. The Room of Hope was warr than ever.
Harry sat on a stool, sipping oat milk, watching the steam rise. He felt this room offered more hope than any other place in the castle.
"Sean, can I test my spell proficiency?"
Sean set down the Howler he had just finished—he was only a few proficiency points away from 'Apprentice' level.
It was alti anyway. The group in the Room of Hope tacitly agreed that al tis were for resting. They weren't workaholics... right?
"Sean ans, hurry up, Harry," Justin teased from the side.
"Right, right!"
Harry raised his wand nervously.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
A wooden board floated into the air.
Sean waved his wand, and a chart with a large photo of Harry's head floated over. He wrote: Harry: Levitation Charm [Adept], Water-Making Spell [Novice]…
"That's really good!" Justin was the first to praise. "A week faster than . About the sa as you, Hermione."
Hermione lifted her chin. "Passable."
Justin grabbed his own chart and grinned. "From [Novice] to [Adept] in a week and a half. You must have a real talent for Charms."
Harry felt lightheaded at the praise, especially when he saw Hermione and Neville nodding in agreent.
Apart from flying, he now had sothing else he was good at. People could say: "Oh, Potter, he's brilliant at Charms," instead of just, "Ah, that's Harry Potter."
Ron crowded in, seeing his own proficiency lagging behind everyone else's, but his Transfiguration had reached a solid [Novice]! His hard work hadn't been in vain.
He never thought the day would co when his progress would be recognized—he absolutely loved this place.
The Room of Hope was always full of hope, but perhaps only Justin truly understood why.
In a group where everyone's skill level was similar, disagreents and prejudices were almost inevitable.
But the Room of Hope was different. To be precise, its harmony and vitality existed simply because Sean had united a group of very good young wizards.
(End of Chapter)
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