Alchemy was far more thrilling and fascinating than Sean had ever imagined.
The professor had promised him an afternoon to dive into it, and she was so precise that even class time was woven into the schedule.
She led Sean into the classroom, where the students were too busy struggling with their assignments to notice an extra young wizard. Sean finally had a chance to take in the room—a space filled with all sorts of instruments, though it wasn't crowded with people.
Most of the students were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, with just a couple of Gryffindors and Slytherins sprinkled in.
The professor taught while directing Sean to watch the process from start to finish: preparing materials, inscribing runes, and infusing magic.
In an entire class, only a few students managed to produce a Howler.
The professor's expression wasn't much better than those who sent their Howlers screaming off.
"Before you learn, seeing the full process of alchemy is like setting the course for a ship," she said solemnly, ignoring the departing older students and turning to Sean with her hands clasped behind her back.
Compared to the older students, who were often confused and limited in skill, Professor Tyra had higher expectations for Sean.
"Alchemy, a noble and ancient art, has always been secretive in its pursuit of endless wealth and the perfect soul. For those wizards truly gifted, these secrets will eventually be unlocked."
Professor Tyra held a blank notebook, completely empty.
"You have one week to record your choices for Howler materials. Remember, Mr. Green, slow is fast."
Along with the task came a few carefully selected books. Some of their contents were obscured by Confundus Charms, leaving only the most precise details.
It was clear Professor Tyra knew all too well how alchemists' writings could sound like cryptic ramblings.
"It's not that alchemists have to make things obscure," she said, as if reading his thoughts, a smile creeping onto her face. "Remember that. Just like you'll remember the three stages of alchemy: selecting and melting materials, transforming and sublimating metals, and inscribing and transmuting runes."
She went on, "In the history of the wizarding world, alchemists have tried to turn base metals into shining gold. To them, the world is alive, brimming with spiritual forces. With the right knowledge and tools, those forces can be harnessed. Through this noble, ancient art, metals can live, die, or even be reborn."
Sean left the classroom deep in thought.
He roughly grasped the three practical stages of alchemy—selection, transformation, and the sublimation brought by rune inscription.
The professor's task was in the "blackening" stage: choosing materials and purging impurities.
She didn't allow him to look up the materials used for Howlers, only saying, "Before choosing, think, Mr. Green. Think deeply."
So Sean poured all his focus into the books she'd given him.
They detailed dozens of materials, with no mention of the four elements, seven planets, or the Philosopher's Stone—just straightforward lists of possible components. Still, it was enough to keep Sean exploring.
Alchemy was vast, especially after the professor urged him not to skim the surface but to feel its meaning for wizards intuitively.
For days, when the younger students at the Room of Requirement saw Sean, he was studying the differences between materials.
He devoured the professor's books and soon found his answers.
It was another Monday.
The wind howled outside as Professor Tyra sat in her chair, eyeing Sean with curiosity. "Five days, Mr. Green. Have you gained any insights?"
"In The Development of Alchemy, it says wizards have studied alchemy almost as long as Muggles," Sean said, half to himself, half as a declaration. "So why have only wizards created the Philosopher's Stone? Because alchemy, like brewing potions, is tied to a source of magic. That source belongs solely to magic itself.
"The right knowledge and tools are just parts of a wizard's ritual magic. What's really tested is the wizard's spiritual strength—history, knowledge, and the metaphors of materials all strengthen a wizard's will. As The Fifth Element: Exploration says, alchemy's success is the success of a wizard's magic. It's the wizard's belief that makes the creation work, not the creation moving on its own."
Sean's eyes sparkled. If he was right, he could forge a path for alchemy just like he did with potion-making.
Professor Tyra's expression shifted. She stood quickly. "Three days a week, I expect to see you in the Alchemy office."
---
In just five days, Sean understood why the professor only found Muggle science "interesting."
Alchemy carried an inherent mystique. Strip that away, and success became nearly impossible.
Imagine if a wizard believed in gravity and was convinced a feather couldn't fly—would the feather still soar?
The professor's task didn't seem finished, yet it also felt complete.
She taught Sean a remarkable spell that made finding materials a breeze—Scarpin's Revelaspell.
Invented by Scarpin, it identified the ingredients in a given potion. Naturally, it worked for alchemy too.
Professor Slughorn had introduced it in sixth-year Potions, though Hermione was the only student who truly grasped it.
"A small tool, Mr. Green. A necessary one," Professor Tyra said, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed admiration. She clearly expected Sean to master the spell quickly.
Reality, however, made her frown.
Her student, naturally suited for alchemy, was stumped by this one little spell.
"Tomorrow, same time, Mr. Green. I have an afternoon reserved for you," she said, puzzled, before heading into her office.
Sean stood there, dazed.
Tomorrow afternoon... he was supposed to be in the dungeons brewing potions.
His Draught of Peace was just ten proficiency points shy of mastery, which would unlock a new potion talent and officially open the door to alchemy.
Now, those two doors were colliding. If he dared open just one, he wasn't sure what might burst through the other.
As Sean wandered down the corridor, lost in thought, Michael and Terry, with his wild, curly hair, happened to pass by.
"Oh, Sean! I knew you'd be here. Just returning your Charms notes—hang on, Scarpin's Revelaspell? You're not trying to count windows too, are you?!" Michael exclaimed.
"Windows are important!" Terry shot back, his face flushing.