The Alchemy classroom buzzed with instruments that ticked and whirred on their own.
Peering through the window, Sean saw Professor Tyra holding a biscuit, teaching sixth- and seventh-years.
He knew he'd arrived a bit early.
"A Canary Cream…" Professor Tyra began. "You might think of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, where Babbitty Rabbitty turned herself into a whiskered old rabbit, hiding in a tree stump to scare a king with her magic.
"You might believe perfect human transfiguration through alchemy is possible, but I'm sorry to say the alchemical community debunked that ages ago.
"Even if the story's true, Babbitty was likely a rare Animagus. As for an Animagus casting spells in animal form? Ha—the odds are lower than you lot producing a decent alchemical project right now.
"Let me warn you: one overconfident alchemist tried turning himself into an owl to 'truly understand flight.' A century later, he's still stuck in a half-real, half-unreal state—neither wizard nor bird. He died alone on a cliff."
Professor Tyra referenced The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a centuries-old bedtime staple for wizarding kids.
Perfect human transfiguration—alchemy's attempt to revive what Transfiguration scholars abandoned—had been a dead end.
Historically, Animagi lost their spell-casting ability in animal form.
But alchemists, stubborn as they were, loved chasing the impossible. A hundred years later, they still hadn't cracked it—wizards couldn't retain clear consciousness or cast spells after a full transformation.
So, they flat-out denied perfect transfiguration was possible.
Sean listened quietly outside, unconvinced. The wizarding world might not have figured it out yet, but that didn't mean it was impossible.
He trusted his instincts over history.
Okay, the real kicker? His "self-to-living" Transfiguration had just hit apprentice level.
"A five-foot essay on runes and a passable vial of Everlasting Ink by the last class before Christmas," Professor Tyra announced.
The Alchemy office door swung open on its own, and the students, grumbling only in their heads, shuffled out.
Once in the corridor, they let loose at the far end: "What's got Professor so riled up?! Two weeks' worth of homework in one? Merlin's beard—can anyone at Hogwarts whip up an alchemical creation in a week?"
A week? Sean recalled Tyra's demand for him was one every five days.
This can't be because of me… right?
"Come in, Mr. Green," Tyra called. "I assume you heard about perfect transfiguration.
"For wizards barely scraping by in Alchemy, it's an undeniable fact. Respecting it keeps them from irreversible mistakes.
"But for gifted wizards, facts can be challenged."
Her silver hair glinted as she spoke with a knowing edge. "Let's see your Howler and… that other alchemical project."
Sean handed over the Howler. The Weasley twins' voices boomed: "Dear Professor Tyra—"
He quickly shut off the magical circuit.
He wasn't one for shouting, but the Weasleys were happy to help.
"Not bad—really, quite good," Tyra said, nodding.
From material choice to rune inscription to seamless execution, it was a solid piece of alchemy.
Miles better than the older students who fumbled Scarpin's Revelio Charm or couldn't tell one rune from another.
Those kids were obsessed with get-rich-quick schemes or wild, nonsensical ideas.
Tyra snapped her fingers, and the desk's parchment turned into owls.
The students, barely settled in the Great Hall, got smacked in the head with papers.
"An essay on Scarpin's Revelio Charm?!"
"Merlin's beard!"
---
Crucibles lined the Alchemy classroom. Tyra's deep, expectant eyes watched the young wizard.
Sean's Owl Biscuit vanished the moment he presented it, reappearing in Tyra's hand.
"Advanced Transfiguration with living-to-living conversion… finely crafted rune circuits, a bit raw but stable and consistent… the trigger spell's spot-on… Is this—culinary magic?"
Tyra's expression shifted rapidly. She stood, pacing the classroom nervously.
"Oh—naturally—a true alchemist always meets a few prodigies…"
Her hands shook with excitement, her face blurred as if under her own spell.
Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, leaving Sean clueless about how his work stacked up.
He got nervous. Sure, the Weasleys hyped his creations to the moon, but where did he really stand in the alchemical world?
Think about it—Nicolas Flamel made the Philosopher's Stone, the pinnacle of alchemy.
Others crafted Portkeys, the Knight Bus, Vanishing Cabinets, and Extendable Trunks.
Professor Tyra, bouncing between magical schools, must've seen top-tier student work.
Sean kicked himself for not unlocking an alchemy title first.
He checked his panel:
[Howler: Unlocked (10/30)]
[Floating Quill: Apprentice Level (1/300)]
[Owl Biscuit: Apprentice Level (10/300)]
[Three apprentice-level alchemical creations unlock the Alchemy Apprentice Title.]
The Howler clicked first try, but he'd spent most of his time on the Owl Biscuit, leaving no chance to check his talents.
"Very good—I mean, exceptional," Tyra said, reining in her excitement. Her elegance wouldn't allow a full meltdown.
"Few manage such high achievement in both Alchemy and Transfiguration."
Though she'd just sent off several letters via Confundus Charm in her excitement, their contents were brief:
[Next Urada International Alchemy Symposium, I'm bringing my student. Hope you all are too.]
---