Sean was knee-deep in a plan to finish five books: Selecting and Awakening Alchemical Materials, Aether and the Secrets of Combination, The Power of Ancient Runes in Alchemy, Rune Engraving and Vessel Construction, and Deep Analysis of Alchemical Rituals. They covered materials, combinations, runic symbols, rune engraving, and the all-important rituals.
The more he studied, the more Sean felt like wizards were half-hypnotizing themselves. Take this line from Selecting and Awakening Alchemical Materials: [The death and rebirth of a dragon symbolize the breakdown and purification of matter.] It claimed adding dragon's blood made alchemical creations purer and more stable. But then, in the very next section, it warned that dragon's blood could destabilize a creation, breaking it down and infusing it with a dragon's destructive nature.
So, how was dragon's blood supposed to be used?
Headmaster Dumbledore had famously outlined twelve uses for dragon's blood, but they were riddled with contradictions—completely different methods for the same ingredient. Sean couldn't shake the feeling that dragon's blood did whatever the wizard wanted it to do. Alchemy seemed to bend to a wizard's belief. The stronger their faith in its power, the more power it granted. Rituals were the bridge connecting the wizard's will to the magic.
Alchemy's vagueness felt inevitable. It wasn't a science—it was an art. It hinged on a wizard's fleeting mental state, symbolic associations, and personal magical intuition. Two wizards could use the same knowledge, tools, and guidebook, yet get wildly different results. Belief couldn't be standardized.
Sean jotted down his thoughts as snow began falling outside again. Hogwarts' grounds were blanketed in thick, layered snow—soft and fluffy at first, hardening into icy slabs after days of accumulation, though the top layer stayed powdery enough for snowballs.
Inside the Hut of Hope, Justin was baking cookies on a portable oven while Sean quietly engraved runic symbols. The seating arrangement was set: Sean in the center, Justin to his left, Hermione to his right. Up front, Neville tended to a sprawling "garden" of plants, which had taken over the entire lecture area with racks of greenery at various heights.
Behind them sat Harry and Ron—one obsessed with Transfiguration, the other with Charms. Sean had transfigured the chairs into a semi-enclosed setup, so privacy wasn't an issue.
His carving knife grew warm—Sean knew he'd finished the Howler.
[You practiced Howler crafting at the Skilled level. Proficiency +10]
[A new Alchemy Domain title has been unlocked. Please review.]
[A new Wizard Talent has been unlocked. Please review.]
Sean decided to save his alchemy talent for last and checked the title first.
[Title: Novice Alchemist]
[Slightly enhances perception of alchemical magic and marginally boosts alchemy talent.]
As expected. Sean held his breath and moved on to the talent.
[Wizard Sean, Alchemy Talent: Gold. Note: Typical wizards have Green.]
[Evaluation: Creation and innovation, exploration and the unknown—you are an irreplaceable trailblazer in alchemy. If you fulfill your potential, you will leave a legacy for alchemists to chase.]
So, I could rival… Nicolas Flamel? Sean froze.
It clicked. His flying talent and alchemy talent were likely linked. If his flying talent was Gold, it made sense his alchemy talent would be strong too—flying broomsticks were alchemical creations, after all. He recalled how low the proficiency requirement was for advancing in flying: just 30 points to go from Apprentice to Beginner. If flying was a subset of alchemy, it explained a lot.
So, his true talents were in Dark Magic and Alchemy?
Just then, the system let out its loudest ding yet. A new line appeared below his Gold alchemy talent:
[You have unlocked three Legendary talents, breaking the boundaries of legend. One talent cap has been raised.]
What the—? Sean stared, scrolling down.
[New Wizard Talent: Red (0/1) (Requires unlocking a Legendary title in any magical domain)]
He froze again. He'd thought Legendary was the ceiling, but there was more? Magic's vastness struck again—as long as you kept pushing, there was always a path forward.
What lay beyond Legendary?
Sean knew:
- [Expert] matched adult wizards.
- [Master] aligned with Hogwarts professors.
- [Legendary] was for giants like Dumbledore or Voldemort.
But beyond Legendary? What could that be?
Just thinking about it sent a surge of excitement through him, his passion for magic reigniting.
A sizzling sound interrupted his thoughts—Justin's cookies were done. Seeing them, Sean realized he still had a long way to go in blending Transfiguration and Alchemy. If Owl Cookies were possible, why not Bear Cookies, Beetle Cookies, or Lion Cookies? The challenge was understanding the animals well enough.
The road for Alchemy and Transfiguration stretched far ahead. For now, Sean wanted to master "self-to-living" Transfiguration. Growing wings or turning his head into a shark's for a swim sounded pretty cool. Voldemort's image flashed in his mind—flying as a cloud of black smoke. Was that a unique kind of Transfiguration?
He waved his wand.
[You practiced advanced Transfiguration at the Skilled level. Proficiency +30]
The elmwood bookshelf trembled, and a board seemed to obey an unseen command, sliding out a dark green notebook. Sean sighed. Ever since his Transfiguration hit [Expert] and passed 100,000 proficiency points, low-level practice barely moved the needle. Like learning silent casting, he'd need to dive into deeper mysteries to keep progressing.
He picked up the dark green notebook—McGonagall's notes on self-transformation, sprinkled with Animagus tips. As he flipped through it, the system's words echoed in his mind: "Creation and innovation," "exploration and the unknown," "an irreplaceable trailblazer in alchemy…"
Then, words appeared on Professor Terra's notes:
[You'll come to understand, child, why we study alchemy. I write this to remind you—and myself—that we must always see things through new eyes. We explore alchemy's mysteries because we are wizards, brimming with creativity and passion. We wield magic to change the world—why settle for standing still? This is my answer, and perhaps yours too.]
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