Silver-gold alloy powder, the Undetectable Extension Charm, and Alchemy.
Charlie wrote each term carefully in his notebook, twirling his quill as he sank deep into thought.
Hogwarts certainly offered Alchemy, but it was notoriously restricted to the older students. He had no idea what the professor's temperament was like, or if the man would take kindly to an overly ambitious first-year pestering him with advanced questions.
The Undetectable Extension Charm was another incredibly complex piece of magic. A trip to the Restricted Section, or at least the upper-year library aisles, seemed unavoidable.
Then there were the raw materials. A finely milled powder of pure silver and gold. That alone was going to drain his entirely nonexistent vault at Gringotts.
High-level magical portraits possessed a unique property: they allowed the subject to travel seamlessly between frames, ignoring geographical distance. However, funding such a project was currently far beyond his means.
After a moment of deliberation, he drew a neat circle around Alchemy and Undetectable Extension Charm. These two tasks held the highest priority.
Dinner was still hours away, making this the perfect time to act. Charlie never believed in putting things off until tomorrow. Time, after all, was his most valuable ingredient.
He stood up, snapped his notebook shut, and headed down to the Ravenclaw common room.
Roger, the upper-year student he usually spoke to, was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the familiar prefects. However, Charlie did spot two older boys he recognized from a morning debate about N.E.W.T. exams. They seemed to be best friends, permanently attached at the hip and constantly stressed.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Charlie said politely.
"Afternoon, mate. Oh, it is you. Need something?" one of them asked, looking mildly surprised that a first-year was initiating conversation.
"I was wondering if either of you knew anything about the Hogwarts Alchemy elective. Do you happen to know who the professor is, or where I might find his office?"
"Alchemy?" The older Ravenclaw raised an eyebrow. "That is an incredibly niche question. Let me think. Is the professor named Barnes? Or maybe Burns?"
"It is Chambers, you absolute troll," his friend sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Right, right. Samuel Chambers!" The first boy tapped his forehead in realization. "You cannot blame me. The man does not even attend the welcoming feast. You only ever see him vanishing around corners."
He paused, stroking his chin. "As for his office, we genuinely have no idea."
"His class is practically non-existent, mate," the second boy chimed in. "I doubt there are even ten people in the seventh-year Alchemy class this term."
"Five would be a booming success," the first boy corrected, shaking his head. "If my memory serves me right, his office is somewhere on the fourth floor, down the left corridor."
He then puffed out his chest and adopted a surprisingly accurate impression of Albus Dumbledore. "Just make sure you do not wander down the right-hand corridor. Well, unless you wish to suffer a highly painful death."
"I will keep that in mind. Thank you both." Charlie nodded and set off.
Leaving the common room behind, he quickly navigated his way down to the fourth floor. The castle was growing chilly. Charlie suspected they would see snow by November. He rubbed his hands together to stay warm as he began his search.
Compared to the bustling lower levels and the damp dungeons, the fourth floor was eerily deserted. It made perfect sense why Dumbledore had chosen to hide a massive three-headed dog up here.
Though, Charlie pondered, was the three-headed dog truly a secret? Hogwarts was packed to the brim with mischievous teenagers. It seemed statistically impossible that nobody had dared each other to explore the forbidden corridor yet.
The fourth floor was lined with empty classrooms. Charlie frequently had to crack open doors just to check if the room was a dusty storage space or a professor's sanctuary.
After closing the fourth door on a closet full of broken brass scales, he approached the fifth. Just as he raised his knuckles to knock, the brass owl-shaped knocker affixed to the wood suddenly opened its beak.
"Little wizard, little wizard," the knocker hooted in a raspy, metallic voice. "Please go away. This is a professor's office. If you are looking for a quiet place to play Exploding Snap, go find an empty classroom."
Charlie stared at the incredibly lifelike piece of metal. "Is this the office of Professor Samuel Chambers, the Alchemy instructor?"
"Yes, it is," the owl replied, blinking its brass eyes.
"Excellent. Professor Chambers is exactly who I am looking for."
The owl gave a metallic sigh, bobbed its head, and then aggressively slammed its own beak against the door twice.
"Enter," came a flat, calm voice. It was muffled by the heavy oak but perfectly clear.
"Well, go on then," the owl muttered.
Charlie pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.
The office was wonderfully cavernous, boasting ceilings at least fifteen feet high. Directly opposite the door sat an imposing, wide desk. Behind it was a tall-backed chair, framed by a narrow, towering window.
Everything in the room was aggressively symmetrical. The desk, the chair, and the window were perfectly aligned. The items on the desk followed the same rigid rule. If there was a quill on the left, there was a matching picture frame on the right. If a neat stack of parchment sat on the left, an equally neat tea set sat on the right.
The left wall was flanked by two tall display cabinets, while the right wall featured a long workbench piled high with an absolute mess of materials.
The walls were decorated with bizarre artifacts: skulls of unidentifiable creatures, gnarled branches, shriveled magical fruits, chunks of raw metal, engraving tools, brushes, and colorful vials of pigment.
The workbench on the right was clearly where the actual magic happened. And sitting right there was the professor himself.
Samuel Chambers had wavy brown hair that fell to his shoulders, neatly slicked back to stay out of his face. Wearing plain grey robes, he looked entirely absorbed in his work.
"Give me a moment," the professor instructed without looking up.
"Of course, Professor," Charlie replied. He stood near the door, careful not to track dirt on the rug or disrupt the man's focus.
The intense look of concentration on Chambers' face told Charlie that making a single sound would be a grave mistake.
About thirty seconds later, the man set down his tools. He had been modifying what looked like an ordinary leather wallet.
Chambers stood, turned to face Charlie, and raised a surprised eyebrow. "A first-year? What brings you here? Did your parents send you to commission something?"
"My parents? No, Professor. I am simply a student with a profound curiosity about alchemy."
Chambers looked even more baffled. He raised his hands, tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and walked over to sit at his perfectly symmetrical main desk.
"My apologies. I frequently have parents attempting to bypass the postal service by sending their children to order custom alchemical tools." He gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Have a seat."
Charlie quickly sat down.
Professor Chambers tapped his index and middle fingers against the mahogany desk. Instantly, the ceramic teapot shuddered. Two stubby porcelain legs sprouted from its base. At the same time, the two teacups grew legs of their own and began waddling across the desk, taking their places in front of the professor and Charlie.
"How many lumps of sugar?" Chambers asked.
Suddenly, the teapot sprouted two tiny arms. One grabbed a set of sugar tongs, while the other tipped the lid off the sugar bowl. The little pot waddled over to Charlie, bowed deeply, and poured a stream of clear, fragrant tea into his cup.
"Just one, please. Thank you."
The teapot seemed to hear him. It dutifully dropped a single cube of sugar into the cup with a satisfying splash before returning to its resting place.
"You are the first underclassman to seek me out for alchemy in two years," Chambers noted. "I presume you must be a Ravenclaw."
"I am, Professor," Charlie confirmed.
"Alchemy is an exceedingly advanced discipline. It requires a firm foundation in Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes. It also demands a respectable understanding of material properties, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures." Chambers leaned forward slightly. "What year are you?"
"First year, sir. I only just arrived."
Chambers frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. "A first year. I admire your intellectual curiosity, Mr... well, whoever you are. But alchemy is lightyears beyond your current grasp."
"I am perfectly content with starting at the very basics, Professor," Charlie said, his tone entirely calm and unbothered.
"May I ask what exactly drove you to seek out this subject?"
"I want to create sweets. Candies similar to Chocolate Frogs, but much better."
Chambers let out a dismissive snort. "Chocolate Frogs have absolutely nothing to do with alchemy. The manufacturer simply uses a specialized potion. They spray it over the molded chocolate, and it temporarily animates the candy. Are you familiar with Developing Potion? The liquid used to make magical photographs move? It is a highly guarded corporate secret based on the exact same principle. It makes them galleons, but it is entirely potions-based."
Charlie blinked. He genuinely had not known that. It made sense, though.
"I appreciate the explanation, Professor, but my goals go far beyond making a chocolate amphibian jump," Charlie explained earnestly. "I want to create chocolate that makes the eater levitate. I want to craft a gummy bear that induces a beautifully lucid dream. I want to make a hard candy that cures a common cold faster than Pepperup Potion."
He leaned forward, matching the professor's intensity. "That is my dream, Professor. To achieve that, I must understand alchemy. I want to learn how to anchor a charm permanently to an inanimate object. Would you call that engraving? Or perhaps inscribing?"
Chambers slowly nodded, a glimmer of genuine interest finally breaking through his stoic exterior. "Drink your tea. It is a very expensive blend."
Charlie, caught slightly off guard by the sudden shift in topic, quickly lifted his teacup. The liquid was slightly bitter at first, followed by the comforting, sweet wash of the sugar cube.
"What you are describing is indeed foundational alchemy," Chambers finally admitted. "If you are truly serious, go to the library. Look for a book titled My Alchemy Era, and another called Introduction to Alchemy."
Chambers ticked them off on his fingers. "The first is an autobiography written a century ago by a Master Alchemist. It details the miserable failures and profound revelations he experienced while learning the craft. The second is precisely what the title implies."
He gave Charlie a pointed look. "It is best to read them together. However, and forgive me for being blunt, I do not know if you actually know how to read. I mean comprehending advanced magical theory, not simply sounding out the syllables. If you find the theory too dense, stick to the second book. At least that one acts as a standard textbook."
"I believe I can manage, Professor," Charlie smiled.
Chambers did not look convinced. He typically taught sixth and seventh years. Recommending these texts to N.E.W.T. students was standard protocol, but giving them to an eleven-year-old was bordering on academic negligence.
He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Alchemy is incredibly dangerous. I must warn you right now: stick to experimenting on chocolate. If you start recklessly enchanting random objects without supervision, you will trigger catastrophic consequences. Explosions, rebounding curses, magical mutations. Things you cannot even begin to comprehend."
Charlie thought for a moment. With a flick of his wrist, he produced a small, beautifully wrapped candy from his pocket. "Professor, this is one of my crude, early prototypes. A Moonlight Chocolate. I invite you to try it."
He placed it on the desk. "Right now, I am simply mixing my gathered ingredients directly into the melted chocolate. It is a brute-force method, and I am not satisfied with it. That is why I came to you."
"A true confectionary fanatic," Chambers muttered. "I imagine you and Professor Dumbledore would have a great deal to discuss."
Chambers picked up the candy. He carefully peeled back the ordinary wax paper and popped the chocolate into his mouth.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, his eyes widened slightly. He closed them again, his brow furrowing as he analyzed the sensation.
Two minutes later, he took a large gulp of tea to cleanse his palate. "What exactly did you add to that? I tasted the distinct, lingering essence of moonlight."
"It is a special syrup of my own creation, Professor."
"Fascinating." Chambers nodded approvingly. "It appears you are not just blowing hot air. Go on, then. If you run into any specific hurdles, you may return here. Though, I expect your questions to prove that you actually did the reading."
"I will make sure of it, Professor," Charlie beamed. He drained the last of his excellent tea and stood up. "Until next time."
"Until next time," Chambers replied.
The professor still had not asked for Charlie's name, and Charlie knew exactly why. The statistical probability of a first-year maintaining an interest in a subject as gruelingly complex as alchemy was practically zero.
Of course, Charlie fully intended to prove him wrong. Time would tell.
Needing both books, Charlie decided to check the Ravenclaw common room library first to see if a copy was lying around.
After half an hour of scouring the windowsills, bookshelves, and random tables piled high with discarded study materials, he struck gold. Tucked beneath a cushion was a copy of Introduction to Alchemy.
Unlike the battered, ancient tomes usually found in the common room, this book looked relatively new. Its pages were only slightly yellowed, and opening it released a puff of undisturbed dust. It was painfully obvious that nobody had touched it in years.
"Hey, Charlie! Just the bloke I was looking for," Anthony Goldstein called out, appearing from the dormitory stairs. "Heading down to dinner?"
"In a minute. I need to run to the library to return this bizarre picture book first," Charlie replied, tucking the alchemy textbook under his arm.
He left the common room and practically sprinted to the library. It took him ten minutes to return the weird picture book and locate My Alchemy Era.
This book was terrifyingly fragile. When Charlie gently pulled it from the shelf, the leather spine groaned, threatening to detach completely. Unlike the pristine textbook in his common room, this autobiography had been thoroughly loved and heavily abused. It was clearly a staple for the older alchemy students.
Madam Pince looked murderous when he brought it to her desk. "Honestly, this text should have been subjected to a Replication Charm years ago. Mr. Wonka, are you absolutely certain you wish to check this out?"
"A Replication Charm?" Charlie asked, intrigued. "Yes, I definitely want to borrow it, Madam Pince. You have my word as a Ravenclaw, I will treat it like my own child."
Madam Pince's sharp glare made it clear she severely doubted his parenting skills.
"A Replication Charm," she sniffed, "is a process where the school creates a flawless, brand-new copy of an ancient text. The students read the copy, and the original is safely locked away in the archives. Hogwarts houses thousands of irreplaceable manuscripts and centuries-old scrolls. We cannot simply hand original artifacts to every clumsy student who asks."
"That is brilliant," Charlie nodded respectfully. He carefully pulled the book against his chest, shielding it from her glare. "I will be incredibly gentle. You have absolutely nothing to worry about."
"See that you are," she snapped. "The binding is hanging by a thread. The next time I see this book, I expect the cover to still be attached to the pages."
Down in the Great Hall, Charlie could barely sit still. If he had not just sworn a blood oath to the librarian to protect the book, he would be reading it right there in the gravy.
He scarfed down his dinner with alarming speed, bid a hasty goodbye to Anthony and his other dormmate, Hector, and rushed back to the quiet sanctuary of the common room.
He settled into a plush armchair and finally cracked open My Alchemy Era.
He checked the author's name: Fabri Chambers.
Well, how about that, Charlie thought with a grin. Clearly a relative of the current professor.
The author spent the first two pages waxing poetic about his deep, spiritual connection to the art of alchemy. But by page three, he dove straight into his very first practical experiment.
"My first true triumph was the creation of a Material Flask," the text read. "At the time, I was keeping a pet Murtlap. I needed a way to safely store the essence harvested from its tentacles, and ordinary glass simply shattered under the magical pressure. I believe this is the rite of passage for every alchemist. Glass is not omnipotent. In our world, too many volatile substances require highly specialized storage. The variations of the Material Flask are endless: Stasis Flasks, Life-Preserving Flasks, Hermetic Sealing Flasks, Anti-Corrosion Flasks..."
Charlie sucked in a sharp breath.
Professor Chambers was right. This book was a goldmine of practical experience.
For days, Charlie had been racking his brain, completely stressed over how to safely capture and store the essence of the "autumn wind" for his next recipe.
And now, staring up at him from the yellowed parchment, was the exact solution he had been looking for.