The alchemical world had welcomed its own Hermes.
That was how the rumor went. According to "insiders," this was the biggest story the Daily Prophet had run in ten years, dug up at great personal risk by reporter Rita Skeeter.
Given her habit of twisting people's words and her love of exaggeration, the younger students didn't quite trust the facts—but they were still wildly curious.
The whole thing was spreading like wildfire, some versions so outlandish they were about as realistic as Sean spending days and still failing to recreate the cleaning broom the twins had sent him.
Sean rarely hit such a wall with alchemy; even now he could only extract a few faint clues from the mess.
Rain had been heavier these past few days, so he hadn't done much research. Instead, one early morning he walked to the door of the caretaker's office.
The biting doorknob still hung there. After enough people had risked their fingers on it, the students had finally stopped loitering by the caretaker's door.
Mr. Filch came striding out from inside. As he pushed the door open, he saw Sean examining the handle.
Even though the broom had been taken away for several days, Filch hadn't asked him a single question. He just used his usual, gruff tone:
"Green. Fancy some breakfast?"
"Thank you. Could I have a bowl of bone broth?"
Sean handed the broom back to him. Mrs. Norris, as always, leapt lightly onto Sean's shoulder.
"I've improved the broom's fine–cleaning ability," Sean said. "It'll handle dirt perfectly now. I'm sorry I still couldn't fully reverse–engineer its function, so I was only able to reinforce it a bit. Oh—and you can test its Summoning feature."
Filch held the broom, gaze a mix of curiosity and faint fear.
Sean knew Filch's attitude toward magic had always been like this: he longed for it, but when magic truly appeared in his hands, he didn't quite know how to handle it.
So Sean helped.
"May I come in, sir?"
he asked gently. As Filch fumbled out a flustered "Yes," Sean quietly removed the biting doorknob.
Moments later, Filch watched as the broom flew from across the room into his hand. His shoulders trembled slightly from the shock.
The bone broth was delicious. For someone who knew nothing of food–magic, brewing a pot like this cost Filch quite a bit of effort.
As Sean drank, he used the tools he'd brought to easily give the biting doorknob the ability to recognize the master of the room.
That way, Mr. Filch would no longer need gloves.
He also casually carved a small flap into the door for Mrs. Norris.
…
The Great Hall was still as lively as ever.
A hundred owls swooped through the open windows, bringing the morning post. Sean instinctively looked up. Owls circled over the tables, searching out the recipients for letters and parcels. Amid the sea of brown and grey, Sean saw a flash of white.
"Snowy" landed on his shoulder and rubbed her head affectionately against his cheek. Sean flicked his wand, conjuring a plate with bits of meat and toast and passing it up to her.
She began eating with delicate, dignified movements.
Snowy was, in fact, a she. When Hagrid told Sean that, he'd stared in surprise. It had been the first time Snowy truly got angry; for a whole week she'd "accidentally" dropped mail at Sean's head instead of into his hands.
"Look at this—"
Justin had just unfastened a letter from an owl's leg when he suddenly gasped.
"The Daily Prophet – Ten Years of Major Impact."
Everyone immediately craned their necks toward him. Justin enjoyed reading the Prophet, but almost nothing in it had ever made him gasp and want to share it.
"'The Thrice–Great Hermes Descends on the Ulada Alchemy Conference! Shocking News from the International Alchemy Congress!
Rita Skeeter—special correspondent for this paper—scribbles with trembling quill to bring you the story: the youngest alchemist in history! Already the most dazzling alchemical comet of the century!
This most sincere reporter declares—alchemists have already acknowledged his immortal standing in the field! Rumor has it the Chocolate Frog Card Committee is preparing his biography…
Regrettably, I have not yet uncovered his identity (though he may be connected to Hogwarts). For more details, please follow the subsequent installments in the Daily Prophet Ten–Year Impact series.
(Note: upon hearing of his creations, Dumbledore immediately ordered three crates.)'"
"If it's an improved lemon sherbet recipe—"
"I could see the Headmaster doing that."
The Weasley twins wandered by, waving the Prophet and making exaggerated faces at Sean.
Most of the table had stopped eating; everyone was huddled around the article.
"Today's special issue? I remember Sean went off to some conference too…"
Ron stared at the "Ten–Year Impact" headline, eyes going a bit wide as a thought occurred to him.
"Sean—do you… know if this is true—?"
Hermione asked as well.
Once again, every gaze shifted toward Sean.
He glanced at the photo of the reporter in the paper: jewel–rimmed glasses, carefully styled blond curls, bared teeth in what she clearly thought was a charming smile.
Sean could only shake his head, helpless.
"It's not."
Wizarding news was always somewhat overblown—especially in her hands.
Sean had a vague sense of why she'd flattered him so outrageously; the answer was right there in the bolded words scattered through the article.
"Rita Skeeter." "Deeply." "Regret."
Likely she was afraid he'd report her illegal Animagus status—especially given that, at the time, there'd been a registered Animagus standing beside him.
"It's too bombastic, and most of it is useless information… aside from 'young' and the questionable stuff about Dumbledore, 'widely acknowledged,' 'brightest star,' and 'Chocolate Frog biography' are all maddeningly vague…"
Justin analyzed.
Between his comment and Sean's, the excited buzz around them dimmed a little.
"So you think this is just another fake story?"
Hermione sniffed; she'd long considered this reporter untrustworthy.
"I think it underestimates him."
Justin said suddenly.
"Huh?!"
Hermione blinked, startled.
…
The hall was roaring again. Rita truly understood what caught students' imagination—what kind of invention could make Dumbledore buy three crates? And this mysterious alchemist had something to do with Hogwarts?
They might not know what hormones were, but they all knew Chocolate Frog cards. The people on those cards were mentioned in the same breath as Dumbledore.
So who was this youngest alchemist?
Sean thought that was where the rumor would end. With no name, no face, and such over–the–top fluff, surely not many wizards would take it seriously.
But as he quietly ate his breakfast, he saw a huddle of Hufflepuffs leaning together. They whispered for a while, then, looking excited, merged with a few students from other Houses and started heading straight toward Sean and his friends.
~~~
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