It was the second day since Sean had found Professor Tayra.
A Tuesday at Hogwarts.
Cold, but brilliantly clear.
In the corridor, Sean carried an armful of books; every so often they floated and reshuffled around him so he could cross-reference passages among different volumes.
A sudden bang went off to his left. He flinched back and saw the Weasleys clamber out from behind a portrait, clutching unusually shaped fireworks.
"Fancy something special?" Fred boomed.
"Wizard Whizz-Bang Poppers!" George tossed one into Sean's hand.
Sean had his wand out faster than George. With a flick, the popper froze midair.
"Oh—that's not great." George eyed the soon-to-detonate popper and grabbed a fleeing Fred.
Sean quickly learned what a popper could do. It didn't go pop with a dull thud; it roared like cannon-fire, swallowing the twins in a cloud of blue smoke and spitting out a naval lieutenant's cap along with several live, wriggling white mice.
Fred, now wearing the cap, puffed blue smoke. "Great Green—splendid nonverbal spell…"
The poppers weren't harmful, but Sean felt the split-second burst of multiple charms inside—Explosion, Transfiguration, and something like a Howler's voice-storing spell.
Alchemy was indeed wondrous; a few simple charms fused into a marvelous popper. At the same time he sensed something else—neither a charm nor a transfiguration, but a deep, mysterious power. He'd felt it often in the little gadgets the twins had shown him these past days.
Thinking that through, he cast a Cleaning Charm, tidying the corridor and the twins. Then he nodded politely, smiling faintly, and headed for the spiral stairs.
"Think he felt it? We can't afford to lose an alchemy prodigy," Fred said, spitting a confetti scrap and stuffing the mice back into the box.
"Of course—he's—" George arched a brow.
"—Great Green." Together they clutched more poppers and ducked into a secret passage, eyes closed.
Since the castle went white, Sean had studied alchemy in earnest—especially the twins' notes. They were full of whimsical ideas and brutally short write-ups—yet ten times better than vague, opaque textbooks. Perhaps alchemists feared the craft would be solved too easily; perhaps scholars wanted to preserve the mystique. Alchemy books bristled with symbols and stand-ins—like Michael's sleep talk, whatever came to mind.
For example: "A circle charged with sigils is an invention of ancient magic. Whoever bears a special or secret aim will use it—to protect themselves from 'dangers of the soul' that threaten from outside." That "vision" in alchemy is a runic way to write a Confounding Charm—the secret at the Leaky Cauldron that keeps Muggles out.
Curious, no? Without reading A First Glimpse of Alchemy, Easy Introduction to Ancient Runes, and The Fifth Element: An Inquiry together, you'd never know the circle's meaning. It appears in First Glimpse, but is explained in Fifth Element; only a wizard fluent in Easy Intro will grasp what it stands for.
The mystique of alchemy only hooked Sean deeper—especially because that mystique felt rooted in the field itself. It ought to be… a mysterious magic.
By contrast, potions felt far clearer. Sean had just finished organizing the Fusion–Enlightenment Method into a provisional, complete framework for the will of potions. Using it, any wizard could brew—even with middling talent and only a rough grasp of brewing. No matter:
Believe—and let magic do the rest.
He could already foresee how disruptive this theory might be in potions.
Today, he carried the full manuscript to the dungeon. The trip felt historic.
The dungeon wind was always cutting; it could make any child shiver leaving a warm hearth. Going down, the air thickened with earth, plant, and cauldron.
Snape stared into the firelight; the leaping flames lit the parchment in his hand—Sean's Fusion–Enlightenment Method, the final piece in the will-of-potions puzzle. A tiny "Ⅰ" on the corner; even Snape hadn't expected the breakthrough so fast.
Indeed—only those unable to get through the front gate think up a new door.
Snape's mouth twitched upward—mockery or approval, who could tell?
The door swung. Snape watched coldly as Sean set to brewing with practiced ease. Steam billowed; rose petals and vanilla pods went in, the steps flowed—each stage of the refined ritual precise.
Sean focused on why the ritual magic worked: it felt like suggestion—a tool to fortify the brewer's conviction.
Soon the cauldron bubbled; he stirred by the book. Snape frowned at every turn. The goo turned gold at the final stir; the panel pinged on cue.
[You brewed a cauldron of Euphoria Elixir at a Beginner level. Proficiency +3]
Sean opened the panel:
[Title: Potions Initiate]
[Greatly increases potion perception; slightly boosts potions aptitude]
[Advance: Three Adept potions + three Beginner potions to unlock Potions—Adept]
[Scabrous Solution: Adept (10/3000)]
[Deflating Draught: Adept (20/3000)]
[Swelling Solution: Adept (20/3000)]
[Euphoria Elixir: Apprentice (110/300)]
…
A few more points in Euphoria Elixir and he'd unlock a new Potions title—then alchemy's "mystery" would face the panel, like it or not.
He sipped a potion; the ritual drain refilled quickly.
"Tell me—Sean Green—when the Euphoria Elixir boils, how many leftward stirs?" Snape said.
"Two, Professor," Sean recalled.
"Fool! Utterly wrong!"