The alchemy classroom was full of instruments that moved on their own.
When Sean looked in through the window, Professor Tayra was pinching a biscuit between her fingers and lecturing the sixth- and seventh-years.
Sean realized he was a little early.
"An Owl—no, a Canary Cream… Of course, you might think of The Tales of Beedle the Bard—Rabbit Babbitty who turned herself into a whiskered old rabbit and hid in a tree stump to spook the king with magic.
"You may be tempted to believe that a perfect human transfiguration led by alchemy must exist. I regret to inform you the alchemical community rejected that notion long ago.
"Even if the tale were true, Babbitty would only be a rare Animagus. As for an Animagus casting spells in animal form—hah—the chances are smaller than your producing an alchemical piece that satisfies me today.
"A warning: this is the consequence when an overbold alchemist tried to turn himself into an owl—he was convinced it would let him 'truly understand flight.' A century on, he remains trapped between real and unreal, neither wizard nor bird, and died of old age on a cliff."
Professor Tayra referenced Beedle the Bard, a bedtime favorite for centuries. The "perfect human transfiguration led by alchemy" referred to a line of inquiry abandoned by Transfiguration and later picked up—and ultimately discarded—by alchemists.
Historically, many Animagi believed that after transformation, wizards naturally lose the ability to cast. Alchemists, though—being what they are—love hard problems. After a hundred years, they still found no way for a fully transformed wizard to retain clear self-awareness, nor any way to cast while fully transformed.
So they denied "perfect transformation" outright.
Sean listened quietly outside the door. The wizarding world may not yet have found a way to keep consciousness after total transformation—but that doesn't mean it's impossible.
He trusted his own instincts more than history.
Anyway, most importantly, his own "self → living" transfiguration had recently reached Apprentice.
"Five feet of runic essay, plus a passable bottle of Everlasting Ink—the last class before Christmas… I expect to see them," Tayra concluded. The office door swung open, and the students filed out—grumbling only in their heads.
Even after they reached the corridor, they didn't dare speak loudly—just sighed down the hall:
"Did something set her off again?! Two weeks' homework in one? Merlin—can anyone at Hogwarts finish one alchemical item in a week?"
One a week? Sean recalled the professor had set him a pace of one every five days…
Surely… not because of me?
"Come in, Mr. Green. I imagine you heard the example of 'perfect transformation.'
"For those only at alchemy's threshold, it's an unimpeachable fact—and reverence may prevent irreparable mistakes.
"But for those with gift, facts can be overturned," she said, silver hair faintly aglow, eyes meaningful. "Let me see your Howler and… the other piece."
Sean offered the Howler first. Instantly the twins' voices boomed from within: "Most esteemed Professor Tay—" Before the bellow peaked, Sean pinched the circuit shut.
He was not one for shouting; the Weasleys were happy to supply it.
"Good—ah, very good," Tayra nodded, satisfied.
From material choices, to runic engraving, to the confident final handling—it was a solid alchemical submission. Several tiers above upper-years who barely manage Scarpin's Revela or can't fully tell runes apart. Those ones had heads full of quick money or illogical, wild flights of fancy.
At that thought, Tayra snapped her fingers; the parchment on the desk turned into owls and took wing.
Down in the Hall, breathless students were smacked on the head by falling scrolls.
"An essay on Scarpin's Revela?!"
"Merlin's beard!"
…
Several cauldrons stood on their tripods. By them, Professor Tayra watched the first-year with a deep, expectant gaze.
Sean's Owl Biscuit vanished the moment he produced it; when he looked up, it was already in Tayra's hand.
"Advanced transfiguration of living to living… a carefully carved runic circuit—raw in places, but strong on stability and sustain… a well-judged trigger charm… Is this—culinary magic?"
Her expression kept shifting; she not only stood, she paced—restless—in the classroom.
"Oh—of course—of course. An alchemist will sometimes meet children of extraordinary gift…" Her fingers trembled. Her face blurred a little—likely a charm of her own—and her voice dropped nearly to nothing. Sean hadn't a clue how his work measured.
He felt nervous now; the Weasleys had sung his praises to the rafters, but he still didn't know where he stood among alchemists. Think of it—Nicolas Flamel made the Philosopher's Stone; portkeys, the Knight Bus, vanishing cabinets, Extension Charms… And Tayra drifted between schools; the students she'd seen must be remarkable.
He half-wished he'd unlocked the alchemy title first.
He opened his panel:
[Howler: Locked (10/30)]
[Floating Quill: Apprentice (1/300)]
[Owl Biscuit: Apprentice (10/300)]
[Craft three Apprentice alchemical items to unlock the Alchemy—Apprentice title]
The Howler had worked in one go; the rest of his time went to Owl Biscuits, so he hadn't even checked his "aptitude" yet.
"Oh—very good. I mean very good. Few can reach high achievement in both alchemy and transfiguration," Tayra said, smoothing her excitement—her poise would not allow a lapse. (Though she had just fired off several letters via Confundus-assisted demonstration; their contents were brief:)
[At the next Urada International Alchemy Congress, I'll bring my student. I hope you lot will too.]
~~~
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