The letters were nothing short of a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down. Professor Tyra, the greatest alchemist under Nicolas Flamel himself, had achievements that would echo through the history of alchemy. She held lifelong professorships at five magical schools. If not for her relatively young age, she'd already be sitting among the elders at the International Alchemy Conference.
Yet, for all her renown, this master alchemist struggled to find a worthy student. It was one reason she traveled between magical schools. Without a student, there could be no legacy—and legacy was a cornerstone of the alchemical world.
This wasn't about lofty ideals of advancing alchemy. It was simply the stubborn pride of an alchemist refusing to let their work fade.
Every great alchemist had a distinct personal style. The complexity of alchemical knowledge—riddled with obscure references and symbolism—meant a single classic text could spawn multiple volumes of commentary. In the wizarding world, where progress often hinged on the brilliance of individual witches and wizards, the loss of a personal legacy could mean the end of an entire alchemical branch.
Inside the Alchemy office, Professor Tyra's gaze burned into Sean.
She should've come to Hogwarts sooner.
"Not bad…" Her face came into sharper focus, her voice clear and steady. "Alright, child, this is an unbelievable accomplishment!"
She couldn't hide her excitement.
"Starting today, your time belongs to the vast world of alchemy. By the end of the Christmas holidays, you'll need to finish these books…"
Her calm tone carried both sternness and expectation. With a wave of her hand, a stack of books flew from the deepest corners of the classroom.
Alchemy, at its core, was ritual magic. Unlike the precision of Potions, alchemical rituals varied widely in style. But one thing all alchemists agreed on: no alchemist could master two rituals at once. Once an apprentice formed habits around a specific ritual, learning another was nearly impossible. It meant committing to a single alchemical school.
As Sean left the classroom, his arms were laden with books—each filled with Tyra's personal annotations. What he didn't know was that alchemy followed a near-apprenticeship system. Those annotations, detailing unique theories and methods, were like a master's seal. Perform the same exclusive techniques, and any alchemist would know exactly who your mentor was.
In the corridor, the rain slowed to a drizzle.
Sean's steps were light. He knew his knack for alchemy was pretty impressive, even by the field's standards. The first time he'd ridden a broom, he'd felt it—the flow of magic in alchemical creations, the way runes wove together. It was like a Potions master sensing the perfect heat, stir, or brewing time. This was his gift, and in the wizarding world, talent was everything.
"Great Sean!" Fred Weasley's voice cut through the corridor, as predictable as ever. "What'd Tyra say?"
Sean thought for a moment. "She just said, 'an unbelievable accomplishment.'"
"What?!" Fred groaned, despair in his voice.
"All those awful biscuits we ate—" George added, equally crushed.
Realizing they'd spilled the beans, the twins' faces paled, and they bolted down the corridor.
Sean sighed. If the twins ever opened that joke shop, he'd happily invest. It was a sure bet.
---
Christmas was a week away.
The sky cleared suddenly, turning a dazzling, frosty white. One morning, the muddy grounds were coated in sparkling frost. Hogwarts buzzed with festive energy.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had decorated his classroom with twinkling fairy lights that transformed into real fairies, flitting about with delicate wings.
In the corridor outside the Great Hall, Sean and his friends found their path blocked by a massive fir tree. Two huge boots stuck out from under it, accompanied by loud, huffing breaths. They knew it could only be Hagrid.
"Hey, Hagrid, need a hand?" Ron called, poking his head through the branches.
"Nah, I'm good, thanks, Ron," Hagrid's muffled voice replied. He dragged the tree off toward the Great Hall, where it would stand as the Christmas tree.
Everyone was itching for the holidays. Hagrid's Hut felt cozier than ever.
Harry sat on a stool, sipping oatmeal milk, watching the steam rise in soft wisps. To him, this little hut held more hope than anywhere else.
"Sean, can I test my spell proficiency?" Harry asked.
Sean set down a Howler he'd just finished crafting. He was this close to hitting the [Apprentice] level in spellwork.
It was almost mealtime, and the group had an unspoken rule: there was always a bit of downtime before and after meals. They weren't that obsessed with studying… right?
"Sean means hurry up, Harry," Justin teased from the side.
"Oh, right!" Harry raised his wand nervously. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
A wooden board floated into the air.
Sean waved his wand, and a chart with Harry's grinning face on it drifted over. It read: Harry: Levitation Charm [Proficient], Aguamenti [Beginner]…
"Not bad at all!" Justin said, clapping first. "You beat me by a week. You're almost as good as Hermione."
Hermione lifted her chin. "Passable," she said primly.
Justin grabbed his own chart, grinning. "A week and a half to go from [Beginner] to [Proficient]? You've got some serious Charms talent, Harry."
The praise made Harry feel like he was floating. When even Hermione and Neville nodded in approval, his grin widened. Besides flying, he now had another thing he was good at. People could say, "Oh, Potter, he's ace at Charms," instead of just, "Oh, that Harry Potter."
Ron leaned in, checking his own chart. His spell proficiency lagged behind the others, but his Transfiguration had hit [Beginner]! All that hard practice was paying off.
He'd never imagined his progress would be noticed like this. He… he loved this place.
Hagrid's Hut was always brimming with hope, and maybe only Justin knew why. In a group where everyone's skill levels were similar, disagreements and biases were almost inevitable. But Hagrid's Hut was different. It was harmonious, vibrant, because Sean had brought together a group of genuinely great young witches and wizards.
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